But for a Sword (Matou Shinji Series AU)
by AlfheimWanderer
Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. With the disappearance of its Headmaster, Hogwarts finds itself under scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff placing their status as an ICW accredited school at risk. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, worries about his Senpai going away – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?
1. Echoes of Home

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

* * *

 **Chapter 1** _Echoes of Home_

After a year at Hogwarts, surrounded by young witches and wizards and all they got up to, not to mention listening to Selina's tales of her adventures in Faerûn and the occasional contribution from Matou, whose hinted at the existence of a darker side to the world of magic, Amber Noel hadn't thought that it would possible for _Mahoutokoro_ to surprise her.

One school was much like another right?

But she'd been wrong.

The young noblewoman had been ready for the sight of a school and immaculately tended grounds, perhaps with a small town some ways away, much like Hogwarts and nearby Hogsmeade, which for all their mystique were rather subdued. Shops might sell magical merchandise, but there were never broomsticks in the skies, magic carpets laden with goods from distant lands, magical beasts flittering to and fro back in Britain.

Just a school and a town like any other.

 _Mahoutokoro_ wasn't like that at all. Appearing as she had on a platform overlooking the city – and that it _was_ a city, none could doubt – she'd been stunned by the fact that it was nestled in some vast _underground cavern –_ a geofront, the boy sent to greet them had explained – with the air filled with tantalizing aromas, and obviously magical creatures and people going about their business, with a number passing through…portals of some kind to other places and times.

For a moment – five moments – perhaps something like a minute or more, she'd stood there, all but gaping as she took in the sight of a _city of magic_ – something like Gauntlgrym at the height of its glory, according to her well-traveled friend in Slytherin.

' _Wow…'_

"It _is_ a little startling the first time you see it, hm?" someone had said – _in perfect English_ , with Amber tearing herself away from the vista to see two people: an older girl whose delicate features, raven colored hair, and almond-colored eyes made her seem almost a sister to Miyuki, dressed in a midnight-blue kimono of some sort, embroidered with a pattern of falling stars _,_ as well as a boy about their age dressed in something similar, only his hair was _white_ , and his eyes…

… _red as the sun at dawn._

It had been the boy who had spoken, Amber had realized, with the copper-haired girl blinking as she considered the implications of that, especially when the kimono-wearing girl introduced herself as

Tsuchimikado Hokuto, granddaughter to the head of the Japanese Council of Magic.

"And I am called Mitsune," the white-haired boy had added with a slight bow. "Kaizuka Mitsune. At least by those who do not know me well."

"Kaizuka…Mitsune?" Miyuki had echoed slowly, raising a slim eyebrow. "Written as 'beautiful sound of mountain?'"

The boy had smiled at that.

"Yes. And you are Tsuji Miyuki, written as "beautiful snow-covered crossroad, accompanied by Suzuki Natsumi, written as 'beautiful summer'?" he had questioned, with Miyuki nodding slightly. "And who might you be?" he'd asked, turning to Amber.

"I am Amber Noel, and my name is as written," the young noblewoman had replied with a curtsy. "I'm afraid there's no special meaning to my name," she'd added, a bit self-deprecatingly.

"Nonsense, there is meaning to every name," the boy had said. "Amber, after all, or _Kohaku,_ in my native tongue, _was_ first the fossilized resin of ancient trees. In Eastern cultures, is the soul of the tiger – the stone of courage, carried by travelers as protection on long journeys. Noel, of course, means Christmas, which in the West is a time of fellowship with friends and family," Kaizuka Mitsune had summed up. "As such, your coming to this place in the company of friends can only mean good things for you all."

The earl's daughter had blushed at the boy's words, as she had not expected such an analysis of her names, nor one delivered with such pretty turns of phrase.

"If I may," Miyuki had spoken in the silence that followed, "Kaizuka-san, do any ever call you _kitsune?"_

"Yes, though only those who know me," the boy had answered with a bow. "In any case, I come bearing gifts."

And so he did, presenting an amulet of rare blue amber – all the way from the Dominican republic – to the girl who shared the stone's name, an amulet of red stone edged with gold to Natsumi, and a book of some sort to Miyuki – something about _Ofuda,_ Origami _,_ andbasic principles of Onmyoudou.

"May these serve you well," Kaizuka had said, before allowing Tsuchimikado Hokuto to take the lead in showing the trio their quarters and explaining to them what each of them would be able to do that summer.

Given her interests, Miyuki had a number of things on her agenda as it was, including some potions masterclasses and one on one herbology work with a Sajyou Ayaka, whoever that was.

"We are not as certain of your interests, but there are some suggested activities for you and a stipend will be provided," the Tsuchimikado heiress had stated in English slightly more accented than the boy's had been. "There are certainly classes if wish to study and are proficient at Japanese, as well as athletic and cultural clubs that you may participate in, but other that, you are free to explore the city." She paused. "Both the city below and Kyoto above, actually, though if you wish the latter, let someone know, so we can find an escort for you."

"Because we're not actually allowed everywhere?" Natsumi had questioned wryly.

"Because you may not be as familiar with the city, and it is always more interesting to have a native guide when exploring a new place, yes?"

"…point," Natsumi had said, with the chestnut-haired girl bowing her head slightly. "You are also concerned about our Japanese, I take it?"

The Tsuchimikado heiress had nodded.

"I had not wished to say so directly, but you _were_ born in the White Country, were you not?" the older girl asked them, something that seemed to annoy the Suzuki girl, a familiar gleam appearing in her eye as—

"Well, I certainly was," Amber had quipped, with Natsumi deflating before anything could happen. "Thank you – I appreciate all of this. This chance to be here, to see a new world."

"And we of _Mahoutokoro_ look forward to hosting you, Miss Noel," Kaizuka Mitsune had replied.

* * *

In the days since, Amber had wandered through much of _Mahoutokoro,_ taking in the sights, the smells, the sounds – so different from the British Countryside where she'd grown up. The food was certainly different – far more flavorful than she was used to, with bread shops that sold buns and sandwiches full of all sorts of stuffings.

Red bean.

Curry.

 _Yakisoba._

Spaghetti.

Cutlets of deep-fried pork, breaded with _panko_ crumbs.

And much more.

She'd never imagined that there could be so many variations on a simple sandwich, as she was used to a sandwich containing either thin slices of meat, mushrooms, cheese and pickles, or of course, cucumbers.

Beyond that, there were shops which specialized in curries, with rich, savory sauces that could be mixed with rice – a far different experience than dipping bread into sauce.

There were the noodle shops, where the dishes Matou often had – ramen, for one – could be found, also with toppings far more diverse than one could get at Hogwarts, in addition to all sorts of noodles _not_ made of wheat. Udon, soba, and the like.

And of course, there were the shops that sold things besides foods.

Shops which sold wands and blades.

Shops which sold clothing of all varieties.

Shops which sold potions ingredients.

Shops which sold furniture, rugs, living tapestries.

Shops which sold antiques, with curios and relics not available anywhere else in the city.

And then there was the curiously named _Asplund's Shop of Horrors,_ whose name had given her a sense of nostalgia when she'd seen it, as it was the first hint of English she'd seen outside the conversation circles she was often invited to.

Inside, she'd found a staggering assortment of items that gleamed, those that groaned with age, and those that seemed to sit quiet, drinking in all the light around them.

Items of wood, of metal, of stone, and more curious things besides.

"Ah, a customer?" a voice had drawled, with Amber looking up to see what was apparently the shopkeeper, a bespectacled silver-haired man dressed all in white, whose clothes had a distinctly archaic cut to them, standing across the room from her. "A traveler from the West, no less," he noted, his grey gaze drawn to the goblin-forged sword slung across her back. "You have the look of an…adventurer."

"…I suppose that's not far from the truth," Amber had said with a polite curtsey. "I am a long way from home."

"You and I both, Miss…"

"Noel," the earl's daughter had replied. "Amber Noel. Daughter of the Earl of Gainsborough."

"Gainsborough you say?" the man had echoed, a flash of recognition flashing across his features almost too quickly for her to catch. "That is a name I have not heard since many, many years ago."

"You know of it, then?" Amber had asked with a touch of surprise.

"More than most," the proprietor had answered airily, though he said no more about how. "Are you looking for something in particular? Items of power for yourself? Gifts to take with you?"

"I…gifts," Amber had replied with a touch of hesitation. "Though I only have so much to spend," she'd added hurriedly, as it would have been quite rude of her not disclose this and have the shopkeeper waste his time by showing them something far too expensive.

The man had only chuckled then.

"Never fear, never fear – I never charge a price higher than someone can afford."

To which Amber had only one question.

"…how do you stay in business then?" she'd wondered aloud. "Some of these items must be quite pricey indeed."

Indeed, in one corner of the room, there was a display of very fine-looking rings, and against one wall, very fine-looking blades, some of which bore enchanted markings that glowed even to her eyes.

"Some of them, yes," the man had admitted. "But there are prices far dearer than those paid in any coin of base metal, yet affordable all the same."

"Like what?" Amber had inquired, intrigued even as the man bade her walk over to the case of swords.

"Memories. Concepts. Feelings," the proprietor said offhandedly. He'd chuckled then, shaking his head. "Oh, and names, I suppose."

"Names?" the young noblewoman had echoed. "Speaking of which, I never did get yours, did I?"

"You did not. These days I answer to Asplund, or Lloyd, after the coffee house I was fond of before I left Britain, though neither are the names I was born with," the silver-haired man explained. "I traded it to one of the fey for a steed by which I might escape…those who wished me rather less success than I enjoy here." He paused to reach down and unlock the heavily enchanted case with a bronze key, sliding it open so that she could see the blades within more closely.

"These are quite striking," Amber had freely admitted, finding herself wondering just what else in terms of lethal hardware the man had in stock.

"Ah, these?" Asplund had echoed airily. "Yes, I suppose they might be."

One – a black iron longsword one meter in length – apparently had a vampiric quality to it, as it drank the life and magic of those it struck deeply, using this to strengthen the wielder, if only temporarily.

"A life-stealing sword forged from meteoric iron," the man had explained. "I found its name to be rather meaningless, really, given every sword can be used to steal lives, many for far less a cost than this blade imparts."

Another was a golden-bladed rapierthat shone like the first rays of the morning sun, whose touch was bane to _inferi_ and other lesser undead.

"How was it made?" Amber had asked, her eyes lingering on the weapon. "Or, blessed, I suppose."

"Not a word I tend to use," Asplund had replied. "As to its construction, it was crafted using thaumaturgy, though its most basic component was an alloy of aluminum and magnesium, and a vial of sunlight."

"A vial of…sunlight?" Amber had blinked at that. "You can do such a thing?"

"Heh, not I, but then I was never a Master of Creation. I was only Fes-ranked before I left, and then in a different department altogether," the man said, with the earl's daughter only having more questions. Not that she had much of a chance to ponder this, as Asplund continued to speak. "Would you like to hold it?" the man had asked, gesturing to her own weapon. "You seem like someone who would appreciate such a blade, and I do believe that it would like to be wielded."

"I…I would be honored," the young noblewoman had replied, nearly bowled over by the offer. "Is it really alright?" She frowned. "I don't have to worry about curses or anything like that, do I?"

"Not at all. Not within the threshold of my shop, at least," Asplund had said blandly. "A blood sacrifice some years ago saw to _that_."

Amber, who just had just been reaching out for the blade, stilled in mid-motion.

"…did you just say _blood sacrifice?"_ she'd echoed, looking up at the man's inscrutable face as she wondered how dangerous the kindly shopkeeper might actually be. "Not…human, I hope?"

"Perhaps blood was the wrong word, as my aging steed was not a creature of flesh and blood but elemental water," the proprieter had admitted. "Ah, Nightmare – I miss her sometimes, but all things die in the end, whether from disease, violence, or…age."

"…you sacrificed your…horse?" Amber had asked, aghast at the thought. "How could you?"

"My Nightmare and I had been through many battles, many lands, and though she eventually carried me to these distant shores across the sea, she did not fare so well as I against the spirits of these island," the man had explained. "You have seen only the City that is, born of the peace of the Maiden, not the time of strife that came before it."

"The time of strife?"

"Something a lifetime ago," the man had said, shaking his head. "In any case, water is a powerful element for cleansing and purification, and so with the _willing_ sacrifice of the spirit I had called my partner, this place was created, which no curse could touch. And so some part of her remains, whereas before, there would have been naught."

"Oh." Amber had imagined something far darker when the man had spoken of blood sacrifice, not an old horse choosing to die with dignity for the sake of its partner. "I'm sorry, I…"

"It's quite alright. I know what I am and what others think of me – a sociopath born with an empty heart," the proprietor had said with something like the echo of a smile. "There is no need to spare my feelings."

Despite his words, however, the man did not offer for her to try the blade again, instead closing the case and showing her a selection of daggers and shortswords, out of which one caught her eyes, as its blade seemed…warped, as if by fire.

"Ah, yes, this blade…"

"What's so special about it?" Amber had found herself asking, with the man pausing to place the blade back in the case.

"Are you aware ofwhat a _tsukumogami_ is?" Asplund had asked in turn.

"No – what is it?"

"A tool that has acquired a spirit either with the passage of time, or from being exposed to enough experiences," the man had explained. "One such spirit slumbers within this blade, though his personality is…warped."

"Warped?"

"You know of the saying that one should be careful what one wishes for?" the proprietor had inquired, with Amber nodding. "Rather than mere time, he was born from a wish that came true. A son's thirty-year wish for revenge on his father's killer, fulfilled with the very blade the killer had stolen from his father."

"What happened after that?"

"The man who took his revenge was appointed a retainer of the Lord of Kakegawa Castle, presenting the sword to his new Lord in gratitude. From then, it has passed through many hands, never used again, until at last it came into mine. The spirit still sleeps within, and born of a man's wish for revenge and his joy of seeing this joy complete, knows little about the world."

"Ah…"

They had moved on after that, before she left for the day, without making a purchase.

Natsumi was waiting to talk of her adventures with the dueling club, after all.

Still, as many other stores as there were, she'd found herself returning to _Asplund's Shop of Horrors_ at least once a week, with the proprietor greeting her amiably every time, showing her around, and telling her a little of the past.

Today, as summer was quickly drawing to an end, he was even showing her a wand from his private collection, one of the few items he had no intention of selling.

"One of the rarest wands in existence, I believe. Basilisk eye and petrified ironwood, if you're curious," the man said airily, as he retrieved a small case from a safe against the wall. With great care, he opened the lid to reveal an exquisite wand made of what looked like many-hued stone polished to a shine, etched with faintly glowing runes. "A true masterpiece, I think, though sadly, its genius isn't particularly appreciated by modern magical societies."

"Oh? Why not?" Amber asked, curious about why someone wouldn't like such a beautiful instrument. "It's beautiful."

"Yes, well, apparently in this day and age, every spell having a chance to petrify living targets is a bug, not a feature," the man shrugged, almost as if to say 'what can you do.' "It's criminal, really, but I suppose that priorities change when you're not at war."

"Who made this? Ollivander?" the girl inquired, with the man snorting dismissively.

"No, the man…woman, actually, who I obtained this from is long dead, and her secrets with her," Asplund related with a touch of melancholy. "She was only ever good at these sorts of strange things, though she refused to share the secret of them in life. Over my dead body, she'd always say."

"That's too bad," Amber said sympathetically. "Now that she's dead, I suppose we won't see wands like these again."

"Oh, death isn't much of a barrier for knowledge for those who know how, but not everyone approves of necromancy these days..." the proprietor said with an almost wry smile. "Not that they were much better back then, which is why I'm no longer in Europe."

The copper-haired girl blinked as she heard this, though there was something about his words that bothered her a bit

"You keep saying 'these days,'" the young noblewoman noted. "When exactly did you come to Japan?"

"Oh, about a century and a half to two hundred years ago, perhaps a bit more," the man replied breezily. "The exact date escapes me, but I believe it was just after the Association and the Church got tired of fighting that little war of theirs." He snorted. "Officially, anyway."

"The Association and the Church?" Amber echoed, never having heard those mentioned before. "The Church of England…or…?"

"No, something else," the man replied, shaking his head. "If you haven't heard of it, then perhaps it is not such a major power these days, despite its airs."

He said no more about _that_ , inquiring instead about the state of Wizarding Britain and Hogwarts, which he had apparently seen, but never attended, having studied much closer to London. Soon enough though, it was almost time for her to go, and Amber knew that she wouldn't have many visits left to talk to the lonely seeming man.

And so she made a decision.

"I think I'd like to buy something," she said at last, with the man's eyes brightening slightly.

"The rapier, perhaps?" he asked silkily.

But Amber shook her head.

"The longsword, actually," she corrected, a slight smile on her face. "It's for my brother, who often is…in over his head." She braced herself for whatever price he would name for the obviously enchanted blade. "How much."

The sum he quoted was almost exactly how much money she had left from her stipend, reminding her that he never charged something that was more than someone could afford.

With a sigh, she agreed, handing over the pouch full of little orbs of condensed light, with the man throwing in a jet-black sheath intricately engraved with depictions of monster-slaying knights as well as a set of bridle and reins that apparently had been lasted used on the man's steed, Nightmare, which allowed the rider to share a mount's stamina, that he or she might not hunger nor thirst while on the road, and to borrow a bit of the mount's strength at need.

"What will this cost me?" the girl questioned, somewhat suspicious of the man's largesse, since as he said, nothing was ever simply given away – there was always some cost, all the more so when none was stated.

"Nothing, for the price has already been paid," Asplund responded with a nod of his head. "In hours of conversation and by paying attention to an old man. In some ways you remind me of Lady Juliana, to whom I was once engaged."

"Juliana…?" Amber echoed, the name sounding familiar somehow, even as she mentally thought through where she might have heard it before. Then it hit her – there was a Juliana she should know, because she'd seen it in her family tree. "You mean…Juliana Noel, the youngest daughter of the First Earl of Gainsbourgh?"

The _unmarried daughter_ , her memory helpfully supplied.

"Yes," the man admitted, with Amber blinking. "I see you know your history."

"Some of it," the earl's daughter admitted. "A far cry from all."

"The beginning of wisdom is the acceptance that one knows nothing, so they say," Asplund said lightly. "Is there aught else you desire?"

The young noblewoman hesitated.

"Were you…were you of the peerage yourself?"

"I suppose if I had not had to flee, I would have been an earl," the man answered readily. "Though I don't imagine the earldom I would have inherited still exists." Lloyd Asplund, or whoever he was, shrugged. "Such is the way of the world. Even if, on occasion, I do wonder…"

What he wondered, Amber would never know, as the man wouldn't say.

Still, learning that even the wise – or mysterious – old shopkeeper might have some regrets moved her in some way. Perhaps he was not as unaffected by the past as he pretended, and if that was so…

"…there was one other item, actually," the girl said softly, her mind returning to the story of the spirit slumbering in the fire-warped blade, born of a wish for revenge and never knowing anything more.

"Yes? Which one?"

"The _tantou_ , I believe you called it?" Amber spoke, before her courage could fail. "Sayo Samonji, was that the name?"

"Ah, _that_ item," the man noted, closing his eyes for a moment. "It won't come cheaply, you know, as it is not simply a weapon you purchase, but a life."

"How much?"

"Your hair – all of it beyond what falls to your shoulders."

"What." Amber was shocked more than anything else, as she loved her hair, how it glowed brightly in the sun, shining like fire.

"A woman's hair is her life, as they say in Japan, and so that is what I offer – a life for a life," the old…Earl, she supposed, said, his expression somewhat distant. "Now then, Lady Amber," he continued, addressing her as such for the first time, "Do we have a deal?"

"…we do."


	2. Rumors of Distant Lands

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

* * *

 **Chapter 2.** _Rumors of Distant Lands_

For Matou Shinji, returning to Britain after a long summer abroad (and oh, how his ears burned from recalling...certain things that had happened there), was something of a relief. Yes, he had learned much about becoming an animagus (and human transfiguration), practiced his Occlumency, worked a bit on soul magic and curses, and even had started down the path of becoming a proper artificer, in Selina's words, but it had been very strange to have most of the people around him speaking only french or some other Romance language.

He'd never thought he would miss Britain, but he supposed familiarity bred contempt - or was it comfort?

He wasn't sure - certainly he always found himself mixing up the two words, with Selina poking fun at him each time he did, but it wasn't as if English was his native language.

Still, he was looking forward to seeing Senpai again. Oh, and Natsumi and Amber of course, given they had all been at _Mahoutokoro,_ no doubt experiencing strange and exciting things.

Certainly, he'd experienced the strange and exciting world of British bureaucracy, which had involved going to the Ministry, standing in line to get a number, waiting for that number to be called, and then presenting himself to the Department and Control of Magical Creatures, where they'd asked him if he was registering as a werewolf. When he said no, that he was here to register himself as an animagus, the receptionist, a rather portly lady a few decades past her prime, looked at him askance, as if he was playing some kind of prank and had told him to get out of her office. When he'd tried to explain that it wasn't a prank, she'd refused to listen and had threatened to have security remove him - up until the point he'd turned into a bloody mule, knocking over her desk (and all the papers on it) in the process.

After that, things had gotten a bit messy, with the entire office staring at him, the head of the Department coming down to handle his paperwork personally, the Minister congratulating him on such a fine achievement, and a reporter from the Daily Prophet coming by to do a story on "the youngest animagus in British history" as part of a series on exceptional students at Hogwarts.

He hadn't said no, of course, as they had brought him all sorts of food and drink, even giving him a large case of Honeydukes chocolates, plus he privately he craved the validation that only others could give him, but it had taken altogether longer than he'd thought, and frankly, they'd been rather nosy. After all, they'd asked him about his adventures during the last year, about his favorite teachers and subjects, his feelings about Britain versus Japan, where he'd learned the craft, if he had someone he liked, if it was his unique background that had let him unlock his potential - all sorts of things like that. All in all, what he'd thought would be a simple 10 minute affair ended up taking hours, at the conclusion of which he'd had to sign an affidavit that he would not use his new form for untowards purposes, that he assumed any liability resulting from things like giving people rides or other such, and that his words and image could be used for promotional purposes, whatever those were, before they finally gave him an animagus license, with a group of Aurors apparating him onto the Hogwarts Express, which had long departed Kings Cross, helping him with his luggage and everything before heading back to the Ministry.

 _'Everything in Britain takes so long to do...'_ he thought to himself. Whatever happened to the days of everyone standing in an orderly queue and just accepting the forms you filled out?

Still, at long last, he was on the train, and now he could try to join his friends, provided they were somewhere about. As he walked up and down the train however, listening to see if he recognized their voices, he picked out a few, but to his dismay, he hadn't been able to find Senpai or Amber anywhere. _  
 _  
'Are they not on the train? Did they miss it?'__ he wondered, before pausing in front of a door where he thought he heard Natsumi's voice _ _. _'Ah, she'll know...'___

He slid open the compartment door - and froze as he saw that the room was rather full, with Natsumi, Ernie, Phelan, Luna, Ronald Weasley, and Ronald's sister Ginny all present.  
 _ _ _  
___"Uh, hi," he said awkwardly, waving at them.

"Ah, Matou-kun, join us," Natsumi called out, gesturing to the seat next to Luna, with the boy smiling slightly and doing as she asked.

"Where's senpai?" he asked.

"Talking with Amber about some things from Mahoutokoro," the brunette explained with a warm smile, as a bird chriped from her shoulder - something like a sparrow. "And a new student from Japan - a Momiji Kaede. But where were you? We couldn't find you anywhere - we were a little worried."  
 _ _ _  
___"...I was at the Ministry. Doing...stuff," he said vaguely, waving off the question. "Things took longer than I thought, so Aurors had to help me on to the Express. I just got on the train a few minutes ago."

"Huh, this I have to hear," Phelan remarked, with Shinji noting that the other boy seemed somewhat more...toned than before.

"I guess I could share," Shinji grumbled, shaking his head. "You've been working hard, Phelan," he said in an attempt to change the subject. "Training a lot?"

"Why, yes, you can tell?" the earl's son asked brightly. Then something occurred to him. "Oh, yes, that's right, my sister left me something to give to you. From Mahoutokoro, she said." He reached under his seat, producing a rather large package wrapped in dark blue paper with snowflakes. "Some kind of cookie, I think. _ _ __Shiroi Koibito,____ I think it was called?"

Shinji blushed as he took the package, with Phelan's eyes narrowing.

"...do those words mean something I should know about?"

"Oh, no, i-its just a name," Shinji said, his voice perhaps a little squeakier than he would have liked.

To distract his fellows from any more inconvenient questions, the boy turned to the time-honored tactic of bringing up something he thought the group would find more interesting than teasing. Namely his studies during the summer - especially those which involved Selina, as for some reason, mentioning the Slytherin girl always made Ernie and Phelan quiet down and pay attention.

"I imagine you'd probably like to know more about what I did this summer, instead of the meaning behind some dessert's name," Shinji said good-naturedly. "I mean, I know what you did, Luna, and I know you were in Mahoutokoro, Nats, where you..." He glanced down, noticing the sparrow sitting on her head. "...got that sparrow," he added with a smile, "but what about you, Phelan? Ernie?"

"Like you said," Phelan replied, seemingly eager to talk about his adventures. "Training. Exploring the land. Slaying great ev-"

"-nearly getting killed by an Erkling because we decided to explore a closed off mine like a couple of idiots," Ernie cut in, with Phelan's expression souring.

"Making sure good old Macmillan here learned how to hold a sword-"

"-not that I even wanted to, since a wand should be enough for every normal situation-"

"-since we can't use magic as underage wizards-"

"-I only did so under duress, since he insisted on going into the mine and I wasn't go to go unarmed-"

"-whatever that means."

Phelan shook his head and sighed.

"We took precautions. We had potions. We had Mopsus. We had swords. I even lent you a coat of mail-"

"-and I never asked for that. It just made moving around more difficult-" Ernie tried to interject

"-and anyway, you survived, so what are you complaining about?" the earl's son talked over him. "Going on a proper adventure, kind of like Selina always talks about. You can't tell me you didn't have fun at all, eh, Macmillan?"

"...well, maybe a little," Ernie grumbled, turning away with a huff. "Well, you got us talking about what _w_ e did, Matou. What did you do?" the blond Hufflepuff inquired. "I...uh, I hear you were with Selina at Beauxbatons?"

"I was indeed," Shinji agreed sagely, noting how both Ernie and Phelan had turned towards him as he began to speak. "You know how she always calls herself an artificer? Well, I had the chance to work on crafting what Selina calls wondrous items."

"Wondrous items?" Luna inquired, seeming curious, with Shinji smiling, as she'd given him the perfect opportunity to show off a few of his creations - or at least some of the things he had helped with. A bit.

Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he pulled out six wooden boxes, with five of them being small and squarish, with the last bring rather longer.

"These," he said, as he opened up the boxes one by one, revealing five silver rings, two of which were rather plain, with a feather-like pattern around the edges, and three of which were set with a small aquamarine, as well as a moonflower wrought entirely of glass, which seemed to sparkle in the light. It had been difficult work, learning the basics of enchantment, and there had been...more than a bit of wasted material, but to him, it had been worth it to actually _create_ instead of destroy, even if Selina may not have been happy at the added expense his...experimenting caused.

"They're pretty," Ginny spoke up.

"So what do they do?" Ernie asked as a followup. "I don't imagine you and Selina just made jewelry together because...you liked rings. I hope you didn't just make them for _each other._ " Frankly, he seemed less than pleased at the notion of them making or exchanging jewelry for any reason, but it wasn't as if Shinji understood why.

"They're enchanted, of course," Shinji explained. "The ones with the blue stones are infused with the Bubble-Head Charm, giving the wearer the ability to breathe underwater. The ones with the feather pattern have _Arresto Momentum_ , so that if you, say...fall from a high place, you'll slow down enough that you won't be hurt when you land."

"Huh. Rings worthy of a true adventurer," Phelan noted, a touch of respect in his eyes. "I guess you were working hard then, not just...enjoying yourself," the earl's son murmured. "You know, I wouldn't have minded one of those Bubble-Head Charm rings when I was exploring the mine," he hinted, his expression shrewd. "And I don't suppose you'd have made so many if you were just making a set for yourself."

Shinji chuckled.  
 _  
_"Of course not," he said with a smile, mentally patting himself on the back with how the others had been so thoroughly distracted with the simple expedient of waving shiny things around. He slid two of the rings - one of the feather patterned ones and one of the ones set with a blue stone over to Phelan. "These are for you and your sister - feel free to swap or share."  
 _  
_"Huh," Phelan uttered, blinking in surprise, like he hadn't expected that to work. "Well, uh, thanks!" From the boy's expression, it was almost like Christmas had come early. "You know, Matou, you're alright."  
 _  
_"Well, I could have told you that," the boy drawled. Then he turned to Ernie and Natsumi. "Choose one each, whichever you'd like."Natsumi chose the sole-remaining feather-patterned ring, while Ernie took one of the Bubble-Head enchanted rings, with both mumbling their thanks. "And who is the last one for?" Luna questioned, with Shinji frowning as he realized that perhaps it was a bit rude to bring out presents for people when there were those in the compartment who wouldn't get anything - Ginny, Luna, and Ron, to be specific.  
 _  
_"Well, um, it's for me, actually," the boy said, "but I do have something I can share with the rest of you," he added quickly, rising to retrieve his chest. With some difficulty he brought it down to his lap and pulled out a jug that sloshed as he set it down on the table in the center of the room, as well as a cup and a box. With a muttered _Gemino_ , one cup became two, and so on, until there were enough for everyone in the room. "Drinks and dessert, right from France."

Ron looked rather cheered by this declaration, as to him, anything beat a sandwich.  
 _  
_"What kind of drink?" he asked with interest, glancing at the jug. "Butterbeer?"  
 _  
_"If you'd like," Shinji replied. "Apple juice, water, or ginger beer are also options. The jug can dispense them all."

"Apple, not pumpkin?" Ernie questioned."No," Shinji said flatly, his lips curling in disgust. He'd never been the biggest fan of pumpkin to begin with, and with how it was used for everything...  
 _  
_"Then, butterbeer!" Ron exclaimed, with the others nodding. It was the obvious choice, after all, since most of them wouldn't get a chance to try the fabled brew until third year. Shinji, to their surprise, just tapped the container at a certain place, before uncorking the jug and filled up each of the cups with what was apparently chilled butterbeer.  
 _  
_"This is something else I made," he explained with a smile. "A jug that can give me a fair sized portion of whatever liquid I choose - but only one liquid a day."

"But I thought you couldn't create food with magic, since food's one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration," Ron pointed out, with the rest of the compartment staring at him as if he was possessed, or if he'd grown an extra head. "...what?" he asked defensively, as he noticed the incredulous stares. "I read sometimes. When it interests me."

"Well, food definitely interests you," Ginny muttered, elbowing his midsection, as her brother let out an affronted _ow_. "So, what's the trick."

"The trick is that I'm not creating it out of nothing," Shinji explained. "The jug uses a charm to duplicate a sample hidden inside it. One preserved with...spells. There's already a bit of butterbeer inside, just nothing you can normally drink.""

"Oh...that's wicked. So from a few drops, you get all the butterbeer you can drink," Ron said reverently. But then he thought of something, "Won't the people at Hogsmeade get mad?"

"Different recipe," the boy from the east noted easily, as Natsumi nodded. "So it still might taste different when you buy it at Hogsmeade."

"Ah, even more to look forward to," Ron said sagely. "That's pretty neat."

"I thought so too," Shinji agreed. "But drinks weren't the only thing I brought. I also have a French dessert," he added, gesturing at a box which held a _clafouti_ , a baked French dessert of black cherries, arranged in a buttered dish, covered with a thick flan-like batter, and dusted with powdered sugar. "After all, conversation is best over a snack, yes?" _  
 **  
**_As they dig in, Phelan suggested that now that Shinji, he and Ernie all have Rings of Water-Breathing, they should go on another adventure - somewhere without as much risk, perhaps.

"I've always thought it would be nice to see what was at the bottom of the lake," Phelan said excitedly. "What say you, Matou?"  
 _ **  
**_Shinji had to bite back a curse, because _of course_ Phelan would think of using the ring right away. He looked to Natsumi for help, only to find her shrugging, as if to say he was on his own.  
 _ **  
**_Then inspiration struck.  
 _  
_"...only if we have Selina come along, since she's a veteran adventurer," he replied with a forced smile. "We wouldn't want things to turn out like last time, after all."

"Well, I certainly don't mind," Phelan said jovially, making Shinji wonder if the boy had expected him to answer such all along. "The more the merrier."

"Oh, speaking of adventures, what exactly happened this last time?" Ron spoke up. "You discovered the Chamber or something, right?"

Phelan, Shinji, and Ernie looked at one another wordlessly, with the two British boys indicating that Shinji should speak.

"That's right," the Japanese boy agreed, after a moment. "It wasn't...something we'd planned to do. Just something that happened. But then, I hear adventurers often stumble on things - quests and such."

"And you even managed to get Filch killed somehow," Ron noted admiringly. "That's something Fred and George had been hoping for, for years!"

"...I..." Shinji spoke up, grimacing. "We didn't go into things wanting him to die. Things just..."

"...it was dangerous near the Chamber," Phelan cut in. "Filch...tried to protect us, and ended up dying. I..." the earl's son trailed off. "I wish he hadn't really," he said in a small voice. "A man's life isn't a thing to talk about lightly."

"Oh," Ron uttered, his cheeks going red as the mood grew dour. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," Natsumi said, shaking her head. "As Selina sometimes says, an adventure is someone else having a miserable time somewhere far away."

"...and what does that make those of us who like going on adventures?" Phelan questioned archly.

"Masochists."

The earl's son mimed being struck, as if the Japanese girl's words had mortally wounded him, with Ginny giggling at the spectacle, and even Luna seeming at least a little amused.

"Ah, speaking of Selina," Ernie said, seeking to change the topic, "What was it like working with her?" He paused for a moment to think. "I mean, I've only ever worked with her in Quirrell's challenges, but you..." The boy trailed off, seeming to swallow. "You had a whole summer with her."

"Heh, where do I even begin?" Shinji murmured, a question posed more to himself than any of the others.

"The beginning is a good place," Luna suggested in her dreamy tone, though Phelan had something else in mind.

"Well, what about what she's like when she's not-"

"-leading a bunch of neophytes through a doomed adventure?" Ernie interjected, with Phelan shaking his head.

"Not the words I would have used, but then _I_ wasn't the one brought low by a hailstone, was it?" the earl's son inquired, with Ernie grimacing at the rather pointed reminder of his _second_ -greatest failure.

"Boys, I don't think we care about the humiliating ways you got yourself killed last year."

"Killed?" Ginny echoed. "But they're alive, aren't they?"

Ron grimaced.

"Oh, I forgot to talk about bloody Quirrell, didn't I?" the redheaded boy muttered. "Well, he's a piece of work. Give us tests. Challenges he calls them. First one had us escaping a house full of death eaters."

"That doesn't seem so-"

"With us tied up and gagged. In a closet. Without a wand."

Ginny's mouth shut with a _click_ , her glib expression replaced with something akin to horror.

"And since he somehow managed to stay another year, who knows what he'll do to us, especially with no Dumbledore to stop him?" Ron groaned, shaking as if he'd been reminded of something terrible.

"What did happen to Dumbledore, if you know?" Natsumi questioned as she looked at him. "I was away in Japan, so I didn't exactly hear much..."

"People think he died," Ron related, slightly pleased to be receiving attention from a pretty girl. "They don't know who the new headmaster will be yet either, just that McGonagall is still in charge. For now."

"Huh, really?" Phelan asked. "It takes that long to pick a headmaster."

"I guess," the Weasley boy uttered, shrugging. "I dunno."

"Well, onto what we do know, I think we were asking about Selina?" Natsumi questioned. "About her likes and dislikes?"

"Well, I do know a few of those," Shinji offered, his expression wry. "She likes people who are curious. People who are brave and cunning and loyal, who know much of the world and aren't afraid to push past meaningless rules," he began, shaking his head. "She like teasing people with what she knows sometimes, pushing them into doing things they wouldn't usually do. But...she does know a lot." The boy from the east sighed. "Actually, she knows more about the nature of the world than I'd imagined, has seen things not even I have," he admitted. "Explored dungeons, fought dragons, dealt with things undead in the company of her brother's friends - she's not something even I'd want to annoy lightly." He paused. "Not that I've ever seen her annoyed. Most people haven't, I hear."

"Except Malfoy," Ronald Weasley chimed in, with some of the others either sniggering or being very thoughtful about how the Pureblood scion had been treated. "I didn't think anyone would be able to push him around like that. Make him bow to her like that, call her lady like...like he was a house elf. I wonder what he did to her." He shivered then, just imagining the sorts of atrocities Slytherins got up to in their spare time, and the way they tormented each other. "What _she_ did to _him_."

"Ah, that. I heard there was a bet," Shinji explained, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he recalled this. "Malfoy bet that he would do better than Selina in the first challenge, daring her to take him up on it. He thought that either she would refuse to bet against him, or that she would lose. If she'd backed down, he would have branded her a coward and a liar. If she'd lost, she would be at his mercy."

"He lost," Ernie noted with something like a smile. "I know that part of it."

"That he did," the boy from the east confirmed. "And so began the Hogwarts legend of Lady Selina." He paused. "Though now that you mention it, she didn't talk too much about her adventuring past to others at Beauxbatons. She was more focused on making things and learning there."

"Maybe she didn't have anything to prove," Natsumi suggested. "You were only going to be there for a short time anyway, and it wasn't like there was anyone like Malfoy there, was there?"

"Well, that's true," Shinji conceded. Not that he would have picked up on someone acting like that if they spoke in French, but that was another issue. "She wanted to use the time we had to learn things she wouldn't at Hogwarts. She certainly made use of the Crafting Hall more than I did...and to make better things than I could."

"Like what?"

"Little stones that float around someone's head and glow like a torch, lighting the way for them without the needs for a wand," the boy noted. "That's one of them anyway. I think she also made bandages that help someone heal when you put them on."

"Huh...could have used those," Phelan admitted openly enough. "Even if we learned how to fight blind, with Mopsus and all. Don't think, feel, eh, Nats?"

"...what do you think are, some kind of Jedi?" the Japanese girl asked, fingering the cylinder at her waist - one that had remained there since Quirrell had gifted it to her.

"I think, therefore I am," Phelan said to needle her, with Natsumi seeming utterly unamused.

"...I think some of them were, in fact, for you," Shinji commented, seeking to break up the argument before it could begin, with the boy seeming rather elated by this, while Ernie's face seemed to darken. "Ah, she made some for you too, Macmillan," the boy added.

"Oh, well...that's...how nice," Ernie mumbled, his face reddening in embarrassment, seemingly surprised to have been remembered. "Anything else?"

The boy's lips twitched as he remembered one particular incident.

"While we were out in Tarascon, she did say something about how she looked up to people like her brother and his friends - adventurers who were strong enough to singlehandedly take down dragons, whether with spell or blade," Shinji commented, with Phelan's face seeming to grow intent at this. "That those hoping to join her on a true adventure one day had best be willing to face mortal peril without flinching, to dare where the brave dare not tread, in lands where survival or death are at the mercy of the dice."

"...I see," Ernie said, as he took a deep breath. "I see..."

In that heavy atmosphere, someone unexpected spoke up.

"Did she say anything else about crafting items, and where she learned, or if she'd be willing to teach someone?" Ronald Weasley asked, with all the eyes in the compartment turning to him. "What. Can't a bloke want a bit of coin that doesn't come from his parents?"

"Well, I can ask her if she'd be interested in teaching you, though making items isn't exactly cheap," Shinji replied, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Takes money to make things, even more in the beginning because its so easy to ruin stuff."

"Oh. Well, I know that much," Ron said, disgruntled. "George and Fred have been making things for years. Pranks really. Things they test on me, and they don't have much money laying around. Merlin knows where they get their goods. I'd like to know how to make things myself, if only so I can surprise them. Or maybe get information on where they get their stuff from."

"Like I said, I can ask," Shinji offered. "I can't promise anything. Selina is...she knows her own mind," the boy related. "But if you do want to learn, I don't see any reason she wouldn't teach." He tilted his head. "You don't mind she's a Slytherin?"

"Heh. Anyone who can make Malfoy simper and beg is fine in my book."

"Yes, in your one book," Ginny ribbed. "The one about the Chudley Cannons, right?"

"I have more than just that one!" Ron cried, with the siblings about to break into yet another squabble when Phelan cleared his throat.

"Tell me, Matou," Phelan asked, suddenly. "What sort of subjects does Selina enjoy learning about? What does she like to do besides make things and...horribly mangle the pride of people who oppose her?"

"Well, that's easy," the boy replied readily enough. "She likes learning about various beasts and beings from different parts of the world, some of which I've barely heard of, or not at all," he told them. "Like..." he groped for an example, before his eyes fell on Luna, and he remembered something. "Do you know the Tarasque?"

During the summer, as part of their time at Beauxbatons, the two had taken a trip to Tarascon, home of the annual Tarasque festival, where Saint Martha had allegedly tamed a rampaging dragon-like beast, whose hide was so thick that no weapon - no spell - could pierce it.

Selina had confirmed this, noting that the Tarasque also had remarkable regenerative abilities, and was almost impossible to permanently kill, except if one somehow managed to call on the power of a divine being after suitably weakening it. This had led to some discussion over just _how_ Martha might have weakened it, with both of them stopping in amusement at the sight of a particularly irreverent comic (almost sacrilegious, really) that depicted the saint in rather skimpy clothing, a comic which suggested that she had pummeled Tarasque into submission with her fists.

 _'Yeah, I don't think so...'_ he'd thought, even as he had chuckled. _'There couldn't possibly be a saint who looked like_ that, _or who was so quick with her fists.'_

Seeing his amusement, Selina had bought him a painted figurine of "Saint Martha" sitting on the beast she had tamed. Said figurine was currently sitting in his trunk, as he didn't know what the heck he would do with a sacrilegious depiction of a saint.

 _'It's not like I could use it to summon her for the Holy Grail War,'_ the boy mused _._ _'That's...what, fifty years away anyway.'_

Though if she came with the Tarasque, that...well, that would be something...  
 _  
_Especially since from what Selina said, the Tarasque was a destroyer of cities, a force greater than most dragons.

 _'Its not something I should think about anyway. It's not like I'll be a Master, not when_ that girl _took my place as heir...'_

"The Tarasque?" Phelan echoed. "No, I don't. Tell me about it."

And so he did, leaving those in the compartment spellbound with entire armies facing down one of these living engines of destruction, and heroic adventurers who called upon the power of the gods to lay it low.

As he did, he recalled an odd meeting he'd had with one of the very people present, as he'd run into Luna Lovegood and her father Xenophilius, in Tarascon. He'd thought it a case of mistaken identity at first, but when he and Selina had approached them, the two had recognized him as one of the few lifetime subscribers to the Quibbler.

Nor had they been the only ones to greet them, as a black fox had trotted out from between the girl and her father, looking over the two second years with some measure of interest, though most passerbyers seemed not to notice the beast at all.

He'd wondered then if it had been magical.

"Hullo. He seems to like you, at least if you can see him," Luna had murmured as he'd mused, her eyes seeming to focus.

"Oh?" Shinji had echoed, blinking. "Is he yours?"

"He's no one's really. He came up to us as we were traveling through the woods. I think he was looking for someone."

The fox had let out a little yiff of agreement, before looking at Shinji and his companion inquisitively.

"...an owner, perhaps?" Selina had asked.

"I think he wants somewhere to live. He's quite magical, you know," Luna had replied dreamily.

"My daughter and I are traveling into the wilds this summer, and we would be poor hosts for a magical creature," Xenophilius had added. "Would you be willing to let him go with one of you, if it would not inconvenience you?"

Shinji, being rather more cautious than his misadventures would suggest, was a bit leery about simply agreeing to travel with a magical beast without knowing more about it, and would have said something of the sort to Selina, but before he could do so, the fox had made an odd chuff sound and walked into arms reach of the bespectacled blonde.

She in turn had reached out to pet it and as she did, it's head had moved, nipping her finger.

"Ouch!" the Slytherin had muttered. "What was that for?"

Shinji had blinked at that, given that _he_ recognized what had just happened, since he'd thought about binding a familiar in the past, but hadn't been sure it would be possible for him, since he had nothing in the way of circuits.

 _'I...think...that the animals in the shops in Diagon Alley are basically pets, but maybe for more formidable creatures, one still needs to make a contract?"  
_  
Not that he had been at all sure just how magical a fox was in the west, but if it was anything like a _kitsune_ , they had rather more power than most would have reason to suspect.

"Blood...it wanted blood to seal a pact," the boy had supplied.

"Ah, using it as a medium for magic," Selina had murmured, looking at the fox consideringly. "That would make you my familiar then, yes?"

The fox had made a quiet yiff of agreement.

"You know about familiars?" Shinji had asked, unable to help himself.

"As I said, my brother was a wizard," the bespectacled blonde had reminded him. "Though his familiar was an air elemental - a bit more impressive than a simple fox, and one for whom there was no bleeding needed."

The animal had huffed indignantly at this, even as Shinji frowned, his thoughts racing as he wondered how powerful Selina's brother must have been to bind a spirit of the air to his will.

"I see. Well, I guess he prefers beautiful girls with golden hair, to scuffy boys," the Japanese boy had said, glancing from Selina to Luna with a smile. "I suppose you must have treated our new friend well, Miss Lovegood."

"One tries," Luna had murmured, her voice almost lost in the wind.

"Does he have a name?" Selina had questioned, before turning back to the fox. "That is, do you have a name?" she inquired. A moment later, she'd blinked. "Ari, is it?" The fox had given her a friendly yiff at that. "Pleased to be working with you."

Back in the present...

"I do have to thank you for introducing Selina to her new familiar," Shinji said, nodding to Luna. "She enjoys being around it very much."

"Of course," Luna all but whispered. "I'm glad Ari found a good person to be around." She seemed to trail off then, before looking intently at the boy. "Do you still think Hagrid will be in Hufflepuff, by the by?"

Shinji blinked, recalling that would be enrolled as a student once again, so he could actually obtain his OWLs and such. As a third year, no less, since he only managed half of it before his expulsion.

"I don't know," the boy stated, "though I don't think we'd turn him away. Maybe he'll even become a Sytherin. Now that he's cleared his name, he might have something to prove, since he'd be the first half-giant ever to graduate Hogwarts. Still, better that than a half-elf. Though..." A shudder went down the boy's spine at the thought of someone willingly breeding with a being like Rumpy. "...would those even exist? Half-elves, I mean?"

"Yes, there have been some," Luna replied. "Usually unacknowledged children of some of the wealthier families. Not unions of love, these."

Shinji nearly threw up then and there, given that he couldn't imagine anyone - any _thing_ \- breeding with the abominaton that was Rumpy. Not willingly anyway. In the end, only the distraction of Natsumi's hand on the small of his back kept him from embarrassing himself

"...do practitioners of witchcraft just...breed with everything?!" the boy wondered incredulously. If so, he wondered why that was - were they such _mongrels_ that it was easy enough to throw something else into the mix.

Ron looked almost offended by this, but Luna spoke up before he could.

"Not everything," she said calmly. "I don't think any wizards have had children with a serpent or an acromantula."

Shinji grunted in disgust.

"I meant, magical beings."

"Oh, well, yes. There have been half-vampires, half-hags, half-mermaids, and more," Luna explained.

"Giants...how does that even _work?"_ Shinji exclaimed.

"Oh, there are potions for everything, Dad says."

"...to make the giant smaller or the person...bigger?" Shinji wondered, not sure if he actually wanted to know.

"Both."

Shinji needed a moment to digest this.

"How about werewolves?" he asked, shaking his head at the depravity he was hearing of. This...this was sick. Just about sick as when Quirrell had informed him that in the old days, before Hogwarts had plumbing, the 'wizards' of Hogwarts would simply relieve themselves wherever they stood and vanish the evidence, whether in classrooms, the Great Hall, or the dorms, with the house elves tasked with cleaning any mess or stains left behind.

...all of which gave Shinji pause, because would it have been so much to ask for them to make a magical latrine? At least for those who didn't yet know the vanishing spell (which was only taught in fifth year), since they would need to ask a teacher or prefect to vanish their...excrement for them? What kind of twisted society did things like this? Even non-intelligent, non-magical animals knew better than to shit where they ate...

 _'Those savages...why? Why would someone do that? Just...why?'_

Of course, given that the person who had told this to him had been Quirrell, there was always the question of if his words were completely, literally true, but...

 _'He wouldn't make things up when the truth is so much more...disgusting.'_

"What's wrong?" Natsumi asked him, sending him tense and shudder.

"Just thinking about things," the boy replied - a phrase which was both completely true, and revealed nothing at all. "But yes, ah, werewolves?"

"Werewolves are an odd case," Luna remarked. "You see, they aren't proper creatures. They're wizards that are twisted by a deadly curse, which failed to kill them only because it was weakened by dittany and silver. There is no half-werewolf you see. The child is either a human if the other parent was human, or if a werewolf mates with a wolf at the full moon, a wolf. The wolf pack in the Forbidden Forest is the result of such a rare mating. In neither case do the children bear the curse of the parent."

"Are there curses which are passed down, then?" Shinji wondered. "From parent to child?"

"There are...some," Luna admitted. "It is not often talked about, but some do exist. Curses that cause wizards not to be able to have children, that cause one to die early, that make a family's magic weaker over time."

And so the conversation turned to curses, with Ron chiming in about how some of them - the Killing Curse, Cruciatus, and Imperius - were the most terrible spells ever developed by wizardkind.

"Is that really so?" Shinji asked, finding _this_ to be somewhat hard to wrap his head around. "I'm not sure the Cruciatus and Killing Curses are properly curses."

"Oh, and what makes you say that?" Ernie asked in challenge, though he couldn't hide that he was intrigued by this alternate point of view.

"Those spells may kill you or drive you insane, but they are much like any other spell that can kill or cause pain, aren't they?" Shinji asked, with Ernie nodding. "Of the Unforgivables, only the Imperius is truly a curse, as the actual effects of the spell may linger far beyond the time of casting," he explained.

"Yes," Luna agreed. "The Killing Curse and the Cruciatus are capable of doing great harm, but they do not allow someone to twist another in mind or body, to twist the destiny of another into another shape entirely. Not like the Imperius, and how it makes slavery pleasant."

Shinji's eyebrows shot upwards, as he hadn't been aware of that particular detail - well, that and Luna's explanation sounded quite a bit like something a magus would say.

"That sounds more like a blessing than a curse," the boy spoke up, though the older man shook his head.

"If one sees clearly, curses and blessings are simply two sides of the same coin - powers that change us - and possibly our descendants by design," Luna stated with conviction.

"In that sense, you could say that a witch or wizard being born into a family of muggles was been cursed, couldn't you?" Shinji asked.

"Yes, for magic changes who we are, makes us unlike muggles," Luna agreed. "Or that a squib born into a family of witches or wizards is cursed. Cursed with new blood."

"Blood, huh?" Shinji murmured. He was not exactly unaware of the significance of blood in magecraft as a carrier of magical energy, but neither could he claim any particular knowledge or mastery of such. "A medium for...curses?"

"Or other things," Luna confirmed. "Sometimes, curses are passed down to those born of a bloodline. Curses like magic or others..."

"But not the werewolf curse. That can't be passed on from parent to child, you mentioned," Natsumi mentioned.

"It is deadly, but it only affects one who is cursed directly - or who is bitten by a were and is treated with dittany and silvery to weaken the curse's power," Luna stated. "I can't imagine why someone made the curse in the first place."

Shinji could, however.

Perhaps it werewolves had been meant to be a weapon in a terrible war, where a bestial warrior whose every bite and scratch could kill was needed, weapons who no one wanted to breed true.

Perhaps werewolves had been meant to be commanded by wizards using the Imperius - one of the few spells able to overcome the animal rage of the beast - and used to slaughter the enemies of wizarding Britain.

Shinji blinked. His thoughts were going down far grimier pathways than he'd imagined they would, but he supposed any world where the supernatural was involved was one that was dark.

"...yet other curses do affect children?" Natsumi was asking.

"Yeah," Ernie answered. "They don't talk about it, but the Greengrass family, has a distant ancestor who was so cursed. The weakness lingers in their blood, slumbering until maturity - until a womb quickens. Rare is it for any Greengrass to have more than one child. This is the first generation where there has been more than one in a long time."

"My mother wanted to learn how to purge curses like those," Luna murmured. "She thought that by awakening the power slumbering in our souls, we could change our destinies for ourselves. After all, if a curse is meant to afflict a certain person or kind of being, and that person changes enough so the curse won't recognize them, it won't take hold, will it?"

For a moment, she looked almost frail in the light, with Ginny hugging her, as if realizing this was a very sensitive area.

Luna brightened a bit when talk changed back to magical beasts, be it the legendary Crumple Horned Snorkack (which she had made it a goal of hers to find) or those which were better known, like phoenixes and thunderbirds, animals which were free to live as they wished, unburdened by the rules of society.

"I don't like trolls though," she commented. "They smell rather bad, and really, they're beings, not beasts."

"Oh?" Natsumi inquired. "Then why do the books list them as beasts?"

"Because the goblins didn't like it when wizards called Trolls beings, saying they were too stupid to be such," Luna murmured. "But if that was true, then wouldn't many wizards be beasts as well?"

Shinji blinked. It seemed that beneath her dreamy, mild-mannered nature, Luna Lovegood certainly had...opinions about the rest of the magical world.

"What was definition of being before?" he asked.

"If it walks on two legs, it is a being, while beasts crawl on four or fly with wings."

"...so four legs good, two legs better?" Natsumi quipped, with Luna nodding, while Shinji seemed lost, as if he'd missed something.

"It's strange that many called beasts are just as clever as those called being," Luna commented solemnly. "It's all part of a conspiracy, you know, hiding where we came from. Pretending we're different, that we're more clever than the others, when we're not."

"Oh?"

"We don't have the power of a house elf, or the metal lore of the goblins. We just have our wands."

"...how did house elves become subservient to wizards anyway?" Phelan asked, with Shinji curious as well.

"I imagine we enslaved them. Probably with something like the imperius."

"No, that wouldn't last long enough," Natsumi murmured. "Maybe some other kind of curse, something passed down through the blood, to prevent them from ever turning against their new masters."

"It could be," Luna responded. "Curses are complicated things, after all, twisting fate and destiny, and no one knows much about the house elves, except that they used to wear armor," she murmured. "I wonder if they were like the goblins."

"Well, maybe they were kobolds," Shinji replied, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Goblinoid creatures," he explained when Natsumi looked at him with some confusion. "Selina told me about them. Beings with powerful abilities and no need of wands. Or at least, that's how they are in Faerûn." The boy shook his head. "Faerûn really does seem a very strange place."

Perhaps it was a remnant of the Age of Gods that Selina had somehow stumbled onto. Maybe.

"Yes, we talked of those in Tarascon," Luna murmured. "It seems almost like a different world."

"Oh?" Phelan asked, intrigued, as Selina had never spoken about her Faerûn in a great deal of detail.

"According to Selina, Faerûn is a land where the magic never really went into hiding," Shinji explained, shaking his head. "Yes, you have people born to bloodlines that can use magical abilities, but you also have people who gain the ability to use miracles from the gods they serve, or who learn to control the magic of the world by learning and preparing the right words."

Divine Words, by any other name.

"Are there...dragons?" Phelan asked. "Not the beasts they mention in our textbooks. Powerful ones, I mean."

There, Shinji had an answer too.

"Selina said so, yes," he offered. "Something about the Children of Tiamat being chief among them. Dragons of many hues and none. The greatest of the phantasmal beasts, powerful, intelligent and cunning, before even which the greatest mage might tremble."

"But she hasn't seen any crumple-horned snorkacks," Luna murmured, shaking her head.

"No, I suppose they don't live in Faerûn," Shinji replied. "Though _I_ don't doubt their existence. There are stranger things in all the layers of reality than that."

"Even if they aren't there, I'd like to visit Faerûn one day," the blonde all but whispered, with Shinji shaking his head.

"You'd have to talk with Selina - she knows more about that place than any of us," he said good-naturedly. "You might even have to become a Slytherin for that."

"I wouldn't mind, not if I can see a new world with things like talking dragons."

"Are you sure?" Shinji asked, though he seemed troubled. "It is a perilous place for the unprepared though, or so I understand. The goblins there aren't...civilized, exactly. They're certainly not bankers. There are infestations of the undead. The boundaries of reality are...weaker there, you could say."

"Well, if Selina can survive it, then we must prove worthy of it too, right Ernie?" Phelan spoke up, with Ernie, for once, nodding. "To explore a forgotten realm of dungeons and dragons, what would that be like?"

"Even Selina only survived mostly thanks to her brother and his party," Shinji cautioned. "Even for someone who knows how, its dangerous to go alone."

"We'll just have to make sure she won't be alone," Ernie stated with conviction. "That when she returns there, we will be worthy of fighting by her side."

"I'll drink to that," Phelan said, toasting his comrade.

Ron said nothing, but took a drink anyway.

It was, after all, perfectly good butterbeer.


	3. Of Dungeons and Dragons

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

[hr]100%[/hr]

 **Chapter 3.** _Of Dungeons and Dragons_

Elsewhere on the train, another fateful encounter was taking place, one involving a young man infuriated by a usurper who had stolen everything from him…and the beautiful young woman whose wicked smile had been the cause of his misfortune. He was a noble, born to the highest of houses, with a wand in his hand and a spoon in his mouth. She…was a mudblood, born to those who had not been blessed with magic, and yet somehow she had managed to step into the role which should have been his, while he had been ridiculed, laughed at, made nothing more than her servant.

…he hated it. Despised it. Despised _her._

If only.

If only things truly were that simple…but they never were.

Draco had been forced to confront the complexities of the situation, to confront how _inadequate_ he truly was, both through his failures, as well as through a number of conversations with Professor Quirrell, who had taken him aside after he'd failed the practical portion of his final exam to talk.

"What are your goals, Mister Malfoy?" the man had asked quietly, but the young boy had been unable to answer, as his mind had been filled with doubts and fears.

How…how could he – a pureblood – have failed when…when a _mudblood_ passed?

…and what would happen when his father heard of this?

"No goals, hm?" the Defense Professor had noted, shaking his head. "You disappoint me, Mister Malfoy. Are you not a scion of the Malfoys? A descendant of great warriors honored even by kings?"

"…great warriors?" Draco had echoed, as the question had jarred him out of his brooding thoughts. "What do you mean, Professor?"

"Your line was not always of Britain, you know," Quirrell had explained, his expression odd.

"…and how do you know that?"

"Malfoy isn't exactly a British surname, you know," the man had said conversationally. "It's French for bad faith – or an evil deed, which suggests to me that your family was not only from the continent, but that you were once well-known sorcerers. Powerful ones too, given that any who were not so would not have survived being so well known."

"That…that's just a name."

"Ah, but names have meanings, you see," Quirrell had noted. "What most don't realize is that what you are called affects who you are and who you grow to become. If they did, your parents may not have named you a 'Dragon' of 'evil deeds'. Not that a dragon who acts in bad faith is much better."

"What does your name mean then?"

"Ah, Quirinus?" the Professor had asked. "In the old Sabine tradition, Quirinus was the name of a war god. In the Roman, it referred to Janus, the two-faced god, the god of beginnings…and endings."

"And Quirrell?"

"That is somewhat more complicated, but it essentially means oak tree – a symbol of wisdom and strength," the Defense Professor had explained. "Fitting for someone in my position, is it not?"

They had discussed many things after that, like what Draco could do to make up for his failed practical exam (do a write-up on what he had done wrong, and how he could do better – as well as how he would go about it without magic), his plans for the next year (try to regain his lost position), and what grade he would be put down as receiving (an A, to be changed to an E, if Draco turned in a well-written essay).

The boy had gone home after that, and had been given much time to think as he wracked his brain to figure out just how he would write something satisfactory – as well as to try to explain to his father why he had only gotten an A in Defense.

Saying that the class had been strange and more difficult than he imagined, had not worked, with his father saying that this was nonsense – that in his day, professors never coddled children as they did now – and that was when they were _qualified_ , and not glorified Muggle Studies Professors, and if Draco couldn't get an O, he was no true Malfoy.

Saying that thoughts of Selina – the strange, worldly girl, who had dethroned him – had distracted him from doing well, had only earned him a scolding, as he was at Hogwarts to cultivate relationships and learn from his classes, not to moon over some girl.

…especially not some muggleborn.

Saying that he had tried his best only earned him a frosty look, and an "if that is your best, that is not good enough."

And so Draco had holed himself up in his room, seeking solace in the books he'd read when he was a child: tales of heroes of might and magic, champions of wizardkind who had bowed to no muggle, no beast, no lesser being.

Champions like Merlin.

Like Morgana.

Like the mysterious Goblin Slayer, the hero of the frontier, who had struck terror into the hearts of the subhuman brutes he hunted and singlehandedly brought an end to the Goblin War.

…yes, the one and only Goblin War worthy of the name (and no, the rebellions didn't count).

Those stories – the stories of his childhood – stories spoke of these mythical figures as fearless and cunning, as larger than life, accomplishing the impossible through their wits and daring, taming the savage world and bringing it to heel through their arts and their struggles.

Draco had admired them in his youth, longing to be someone like them – to become someone _great_ like one of them.

His father had laughed at this ambition though, as he considered 'adventurers' – or at least those who styled themselves so in the modern age – to be no more than thieves and rogues, thugs who preyed on the vulnerability and gullibility of one's fellow men, taking advantage of their weaknesses to advance their own interests.

Perhaps, Lucius had said, something of those books was more than drivel to amuse children, and there was some figment of truth to be found in those tales, but today, there were no such heroes.

His father had even dismissed Gilderoy Lockhart, renowned as the greatest adventurer of modern Britain, as a huckster and a fraud, a fop whose sole talent was writing pretty sounding lies in those books of his. Draco had never read the man's books, but from everything he'd heard, Lockhart's adventurers were just as grand as those of wizards from the distant past, featuring romance, action, cunning, and more…

…and then Draco had made the mistake of asking if the Death Eaters had not simply been modern day adventurers, given that they had fought as the loyal companions of a great lord, seeking to bring about change, and his father had been livid.

The _Knight of Walpurgis_ , Lucius had said, had been founded not to take advantage of their fellow men, but to overthrow a system where so many witches and wizards squandered their potential –squandered their magic – were forced to deal with inhuman creatures like goblins as anything close to equals, instead of taking their rightful place as Kings and Queens of Men.

But the Knights had lost their way, Lucius had said, reveling in the power they held, as their leader – their Lord – had forgotten his purpose, and led his Knights astray.

And in the wake of that…

 _'Father thought so little of me that he insisted I take a diary with me, so I do not forget my own purpose,'_ Draco groused. He hadn't spoken to his father since that day, focusing instead on his work – and in the course of writing his essay, and writing to the diary – he'd had a revelation. _'But I know better than he what my purpose is. To become great, I shouldn't ignore the mu—Lady Moore. And I certainly shouldn't oppose her. I should get close to her. Learn her secrets. Find her weakness, so that I might exploit it and use her strength for my own purposes.'_

But how could he do so when she didn't see him as someone worth knowing as more than...than a servant? When she treated him like a house elf – no, less than a house elf?

So the boy wondered, even as he said goodbye to his mother on Platform 9¾ and boarded the Hogwarts Express…

It was there all his carefully crafted plans fell apart, for immediately after boarding, he saw _her_ , the girl whose face and voice had plagued him all summer, whose name had burned like fire in his mind.

Only she wasn't alone.

She was with another girl – a blonde that he thought he recognized from the Minister's Ball, with the two of them speaking in _French_ , of all things. Not a language he knew particularly well (or had studied particularly diligently), but not one he was completely unfamiliar with either, given that his mother had stressed the importance of being _cultured_.

The two fell silent as they spotted him, with Selina greeting him with a jaunty wave and the other girl merely raising an eyebrow at the sight of him.

' _What do I do…?'_

For a moment, Draco nearly froze up, but it was said – or at least it was written – that fortune favored the bold, though he didn't like to think that meant that Gryffindors had some special advantage when the dice were cast. (Though…that _would_ one explain how so many didn't end up killing themselves with the inane – or was it insane? – gambles they took, so…perhaps fortune simply took pity on fools who did not have the cunning and wit to know better.)

...now that he thought about it, that would explain why it took none on _him_ , since he really _should_ know better.

' _Well, if fate is offering me a chance to redeem myself, I shouldn't spit in its face.'_

Thus, as the usurper waved to him, he waved back. Surely the us...Lady Selina would not force him to play the part of a servant in front of a new friend.

"Bonjour!" he called out as he did so, flashing the two a brilliant, Lockhart-grade smile. "Lady Selina. How have you been? And I'm afraid I don't recognize..."

To his pleasure, Selina waved him over and he quickly did as the lady asked.

"Lily de Lune," the other girl supplied, holding out her hand, with Draco taking it in one of his and bending as he raised it to his lips.

"Enchanté, mademoiselle."

Lily made a sound of amusement as he released her hand and straightened.

"Malfoy," he said by way of introduction. "Draco Malfoy. I'm one of Lady Selina's close associates."

"Yes, Selina has told me all about you," Lily replied with a lovely smile that took the boy's breath away. "She said you often made her smile."

"I'm glad to hear that from a good friend," Draco answered warmly.

"Oh, good friends? Is that what we are now?" Selina inquired, her lips quirking into something of a smirk. "I suppose that works. Well, then…friend, you can join us if you'd like," she offered. "We'll just be talking about the summer, with a few of our other...acquaintances joining us."

"Ah." That could only be… "Parkinson and her...friends?" Malfoy asked, having kept himself from saying ilk with some great difficulty.

"Why yes," Selina replied with what he thought was a smirk, though it vanished as he looked more closely. "You don't have a problem with our...friends, right?" she inquired, mirroring his pause, though perhaps not for the same reason. "I'm sure they want to see you again after the summer."

"I, uh, yes, of course," Draco answered, cursing silently as he stumbled over his words as Lily _smiled_ at him. This wasn't like him. This wasn't like him at all. "I would be positively delighted to join you," he added.

He had no idea why Lily de Lune stifled a giggle at that.

Honestly he didn't. Really.

Which was why his ears weren't turning red. At all.

That was his statement and he was sticking to it.

So he told himself as they settled into the compartment, with the boy putting his trunk beneath his seat, considering what to say, as others began to file in – his erstwhile friends, who had abandoned him after his…bet.

Despite his social missteps, though, Draco Malfoy was not exactly what one would call an idiot. As such, he knew that one of the best ways to get on someone's good side was not to snipe at their comrades, but to ask them about something they enjoyed or were good at. In the case of Selina Moore, this meant asking about her adventures - but...where should he start?

"So, how did you get started as an adventurer?" Draco voiced at last, deciding to start at the beginning. It was a curious thing, really - he'd heard all about some of the grand journeys she had accompanied her brother and his friends on, but then, no one really cut their teeth facing manticores and dracoliches, whatever those were. "Or rather, how did your brother and his friends, since you are a...since magic is...not something that people in your family have had in past generations," he amended, wanting to say Mudblood, but knowing that such would not be well received.

Indeed, to hurl an insult at her now would not be very conducive to his plan of ingratiating himself to her, of wiling his way into her good graces so he could learn her deepest, darkest secrets.

The smirk faded from Selina's lips as the girl looked at him, really _looked_ at him, her eyes half veiled by her blonde hair.

"How did they get started?" she echoed, the smallest hint of a smile coming to her lips. "It all began the day they...came into the possession of a tome written by Lord Gygax," she said softly, her gaze...distant as if recalling something from a very long time ago. "A tome in which he wrote of a place set apart from the world we knew. A place called Greyhawk, and the castle within it. Through that book, they had their first adventures, were carried off to them – as we were whisked away by the Book of Spells."

"Oh?"

"It was...a game to them at first," Selina recalled. "Seeing how they could descend lower and lower into the great dungeon of Greyhawk, and how creatively they could manage it, given the various horrors that lurked within."

"Horrors?" Draco echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Oh, rodents of unusual size – by which I mean horse-sized rats, giant scorpions, and the like."

"...and mu...muggleborns managed to deal with these?" the boy asked skeptically. "How?"

"At first, through their wits and through clever use of what little magic they had," Selina related bluntly. "By which I mean not particularly well! The first few times they nearly died to a giant rat...well, it was embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? Nearly dying is embarrassing?" Draco asked, his voice rising an octave as he imagined how terrible it would be to be gnawed to death by rats.

"Well, yes," Selina said reasonably. "Wouldn't you be embarrassed if you were killed by a giant rat, instead of a dragon or some such? Do you really want, 'here lies Draco Malfoy, a reasonably good meal to a reasonably good sized-rat' on your tombstone?"

Lily giggled at this, with Draco gallantly pretending that he had heard no such sound.

"...I can see how they defeated…those creatures?" he allowed. "But what of more difficult things…like goblins?" he inquired instead. "They couldn't have known any spells! Not if they hadn't gone to Hogwarts yet...or someplace like it."

"Cantrips. Focusing accidental magic so it did things they wanted, like light up a room, repair things, work like a third hand - things like that," Selina explained, with Draco frowning. It was true that more clever or powerful wizards could do such things without training, but an entire group? "And as they survived, as they delved deeper and faced more difficult things, the book made certain pieces of equipment accessible to them."

"Equipment," Draco repeated. His eyes narrowed. "You don't mean...enchanted gear?"

"I do," the blonde answered solemnly. "Swords, staves, robes, armor – all things from Greyhawk, from the world that was."

"...and when they finished the dungeons of Greyhawk?"

"That was when they discovered the path Lord Greenwood had opened to Faerûn – an entire forgotten realm of magic and monsters which their trials in the dungeons had prepared them for," Selina noted wistfully. "They've been part of that world ever since, and I was fortunate enough that they shared that world with me, even if I have yet to leave my brother's shadow there. They taught me so much over the years, showed me some of the paths they took to greatness, but I have yet to walk my own. An adventuress cannot simply linger in the shadows of others – she must strike out on her own, forger her own destiny."

"And you...you chose to become an...Artificer, was that the word?"

"Indeed. A creator of magical items," the blonde acknowledged. "That I might help equip others who seek to be adventurers and gather my own party. That one day, when I return to Faerûn, joining my brother and his friends, it will be as an equal."

"Ah..." Draco noted, his eyes widening. "Then...you seek people to join you." He swallowed. "To join your party, that is."

"Of course," Selina said with something like a smile. "Are you interested? The road is long and hard, but the rewards may be worthwhile. Riches beyond counting, lore beyond anything in the modern world, adventures that will change you and make you grow."

"...where would one begin?" he asked. "That is," he amended. "How did others get their start, other than your brother and his friends? Surely, they didn't all begin with...finding a magic book and exploring an ancient dungeon, did they?" he asked. "Surely Faerûn has people – beings – who call it home?"

"Yes," Selina acknowledged. "Beings of many races, of which humans are just one, though we are among the most numerous."

"And the greatest, I'm sure," the pureblood pressed, only Selina shook her head.

"Oh, there are many powerful human adventurers, just as a function of how many humans there are, but the other races have much to offer as well," the blonde corrected. "For instance, the elves may be...diminished from that they were, yet they still make for some of the greatest wizards in the world."

If one was watching closely, one would be able to pinpoint the exact moment when Draco's train of thought derailed, which is perhaps why he lost the initiative to a startled Pansy Parkinson.

"...did you say...elves?" the brunette questioned, rather taken aback.

"Yes. They are fey-blooded, after all, of a lineage older than any man," Selina replied sagely, even as Pansy's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Though the half-elves have the best of both worlds."

"Half...elves," Draco repeated, his mind numb as he processed that for a moment, imagining just what... "Do you mean half-elf and half-goblin, or—"

"Half-human," the adventuress supplied, as Draco's expression, like Pansy's and that of every other pureblood in the room, except Lily, went slack.

"S-surely not!" Draco cried out in protest. "H-half elves? The thought of that..."

"It's a different world," Selina said in response, with an almost gallic shrug, the apathetic expression on her features stilling Draco's half-formed rage. "A world which is much wilder than the one we know, where there are great evils to be fought, and there are champions of darkness, just as well as light." She smiled slightly. "Even those who cannot use magic will fight these evils – spirits, undead, monsters from a long-forgotten age, using only their wits and the strength of their arms."

"Muggles. Really?" Pansy questioned. "How do they...oh, the equipment you mentioned," the girl noted making the connection with what Selina had said before. "Though that can't be it alone, can it? Surely..." she paused. "Just giving a magic sword to a Muggle wouldn't let them face something like a dementor, after all!"

"No, but it would let an armored fighter deal with an Acromantula pretty handily," Selina noted, at which Pansy opened her mouth, lifting a finger as if to point something out, only to shake her head as she thought better of it.

"They're not like the soft muggles of the world we know now then?"

"Not at all," Selina concurred. "In fact, among adventurers who are just starting out, muggles - those who cannot use magic - often do better than wizards and such."

"How is that even possible?"

"Well, you said it yourself - we don't have good spells yet," she pointed out reasonably. "More to the point, even someone like you wouldn't be well-suited to the hard life of an adventurer - not yet anyway. Imagine it: sleeping without a bed, preparing your own meals, washing your own clothes - and not knowing the spells to do it, only being able to shape accidental magic."

"...huh, when you put it that way..." Draco mused, "that makes a lot more sense." The boy nodded to himself, mulling over the idea in his mind. "Muggles make better adventurers at first because they're not as well off, and they're used to doing things with their bodies, not with magic they don't have yet, is that what you mean?" Selina nodded. "Then what about wizards who become adventurers later, who go to school and learn their spells before setting out? Surely Muggles can't stay better—"

"They don't," Selina confirmed, as Draco let out a breath he wasn't sure he was holding. "It takes a while, but eventually the magic we learn lets us do things that are more potent than the effects granted by the best equipment someone not gifted with magic can use. After all, only magic-users can telepor—apparate and such, right? In the same way, we can divine the future, or fly – which no one without magic can do without our aid."

"Fly?" Draco echoed. "You mean with a broom?"

"Oh no, no broom," Selina noted. "Just you and your magic."

"I…" Draco's eyes went wide at this claim. In recent history, there had only been one wizard capable of unsupported flight. _The Dark Lord._ "You…you can do this?"

"Not yet," the blonde admitted wistfully. "But one day."

"Is this…common in Faerûn?"

"Yes. And for all the skills of those without magic in that land, they have not yet discovered how to fly."

"So in the end, magic is still better," Draco murmured, "even if it takes hard work to beat the trickery-"

"—advantages—" Selina corrected.

"...advantages of Muggles," the blond boy noted sourly. It wasn't a thought he liked to entertain, that Muggles had _any_ advantages at all, but…he supposed that since he _was_ riding on a muggle contraption to Hogwarts instead of taking a Portkey or some such, it would be a bit _silly_ and _smallminded_ of him not to.

That and…Lady Selina was a Muggleborn, so he supposed some good things could come from Muggles…

"A lot of it, yes. I won't pretend that the path to becoming a great adventurer is easy. Or that there are any shortcuts," the blonde said softly. "You simply have to gain the experience though quests you take and finish, though good equipment can help, if you are not quite at the level a challenge might normally demand."

"Your brother…he followed this long road," Pansy remarked softly. "How old is he?"

"Some years older than me. Not quite old enough to have graduated Hogwarts, though."

"And…he was a wizard, yes?" Draco asked.

"Is," Selina corrected. "Was would imply he isn't one any longer. He'd take offense to that – he's still a wizard. Not an Archmage yet though."

"And the rest of his party?" Draco inquired, trying (and failing) not to seem too eager. "All wizards?"

Selina laughed.

"No...that wouldn't work so well," she noted. "It's best to have adventurers of other roles as well, since even if magic can let you do everything, it doesn't mean you should be the one to be doing everything. From each according to their abilities, after all. They have a rogue, who is good at sneaking. A bard, whose songs inspire – and who is a hell of a Fighter. A druid, with powerful nature magic. Even a Paladin."

"A paladin?"

"A knight who uses magic," Selina explained. "Healing magic, mostly, though they have a few other abilities. They're…not as versatile as wizards, but they're quite good when you're facing undead."

Undead…she'd mentioned those a few times, but…

"...do you face undead...often in Faerûn?"

"They're not uncommon, if that's what you mean. There are plenty of ill-meaning necromancers about, and plenty of dead that hold a grudge over how they died." She shook her head. "It would be easier if the only undead we faced were inferi, but...there are all sorts, many more clever and deadly. Some of which go on to raise armies of the dead themselves."

"How—"

"Probably because Faerûn is a more magical place than the world we know."

"More magical?"

"You'll see if you ever go there. Places like Hogwarts...places with a life of their own, they're not rare there. Not as wondrous." She shook her head. "That's the other reason my brother thought I would be better off going to Hogwarts, aside from learning in relative safety. Because I could see more of what the magic of our world was like, and how it differed."

"And...?"

"So far, a wizard is a wizard, mostly," Selina commented. "There's some nonsense about blood purity and all, but given all the muggleborns, that can't really be true."

Draco stiffened at this.

"Greatness – just like magic – isn't something you are born into," the blonde said solemnly. "It's something you awaken. Something you hone. Anyone can become great if you dedicate your life to it and have the resources to do so."

"Are…are you saying that just anyone can use magic?" Pansy asked, her voice flat with shock. That…that went against everything she knew. Everything she'd ever been taught.

"Not…just anyone _,_ " Selina responded. "There are those with a natural talent for it, who awaken it easily and to whom the weave of magic is easy to mold. There are those with little talent, who take much longer to awaken, who will never rise as high. There are those with barely any talent, who do not awaken at all. But that is not necessarily a thing of families – of blood. The potential for magic that muggleborns have, as you call them, doesn't come out of nowhere."

"Then what you're saying is—"

"—everyone, wizard or muggle, has some potential. Whether it is enough to be used, to ever be awakened, is something else entirely, but as long as we are thinking beings, we can reshape the world."

"Reshaping the world, eh?" Pansy inquired. "Is that what greatness means to you...?"

"Well, it doesn't mean a desk job at the Ministry, that's for sure," Selina commented. "I don't see why a self-respecting wizard would let himself – or any self-respecting witch would let herself – be chained down by paperwork. In my experience, paperwork only stands in the way of greatness."

A hush fell over the compartment in the wake of Selina's declaration.

"Will you go on any adventures while at Hogwarts?" Draco asked after a while, not too subtly trying to break the silence. "Just to keep your skills sharp, that is."

"Well, there are Quirrell's challenges for me to cut my teeth on, but other than that, I wouldn't mind exploring more of the grounds. How about either of you?"

"I have always wanted to find something special," Draco admitted, thinking that perhaps – perhaps this adventurer thing might be real, that maybe he could become an adventurer, as he had always dreamed. "Especially after Matou found the Chamber of Secrets in this first year. What next, the bloody Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw?"

"Now _that_ would certainly be a find, wouldn't it?"

"Speaking of which," Draco interjected. "Would you mind if I worked with you for Quirrell's next trial?"

Selina raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't do so well last time, and...I was thinking it would be nice to...learn from someone so clearly...experienced."

"Huh," the blonde noted. "Well, alright, I guess. But follow my lead, ok?"

"Yes!"

…perhaps the others in the compartment were looking at him strangely, but at the moment, Draco couldn't find it in himself to care.

After all, he was going on an _adventure._


	4. Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

* * *

 **Chapter 4.** _Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind_

Alas, no matter how pleasant riding the Hogwarts Express was and speaking to his friends about the many adventures he'd been on during the summer, all good things came to an end, meaning that Matou Shinji had to go out into the hallway with Phelan, Ernie, and Ron to change into their rather plain school robes, whereas Luna, Ginny, and Natsumi used the compartment to change.

' _I never had to worry about this around Selina,'_ the boy grumbled in his mind, though given that he was around Ernie and Phelan, who both seemed mad about the blonde, he knew better than to say this aloud, especially since the two would surely get the wrong idea.

In and of itself, their reactions might be amusing, but the problem was that if _Phelan_ and _Ernie_ got the wrong idea, well…that _wrong idea_ might end up spreading to Amber and Natsumi, and from there to _Senpai_ , and then he'd really in trouble.

So he endured the mild inconvenience as he pulled on the robes, wondering, not for the first time, why Hogwarts didn't go in for something more…colorful, instead of just using black.

' _Then again, from what I've seen, British clothing is as bland as British food_ …' he groused silently. How could it be that just on one side of the English Channel, there could be a magical nation which believed in color and _taste_ , and on the other…there was Britain? _'I just hope that the Welcome Feast isn't as…unappetizing as it usually is.'_

Not that he had anything against potatoes and meat, but just…the sheer amount that was served, that was _wasted_ , really bothered him, especially as everything was just roasted or boiled and slathered with butter.

It was basically a heart attack waiting to happen.

' _With this kind of diet, it's not a surprise Professor Slughorn is so…generously proportioned,'_ he thought to himself. The real surprise was that all the other teachers seemed to be of a reasonable weight – or at least, he thought they were. The billowing, voluminous robes they wore covered up a great deal, now that he thought about it.

Frankly, the thought of needing such robes to conceal a massive gut...well, it sat ill with him, making the boy wonder if perhaps he should just turn into a mule and fill his belly with grass on the way to the castle.

…or if perhaps he could prevail on the House Elves to give him a small bowl of oats instead of a decadently large portion of roast, or a heaping pile of chicken his stomach would never be able to handle.

' _Or if there is some kind of spell that would let me chop up and blend herbs together, maybe I could put some in a drink and just have that for breakfast. It's not as if I get much fruit with a Hogwarts diet anyway…'_

Just meat, meat, meat, and yes, more meat.

…and that disgusting brew called pumpkin juice, which he considered unfit for human consumption.

' _Though since some of the eating habits of people in the Great Hall remind me of pigs, maybe it_ isn't _meant for human consumption,'_ he thought unkindly.

Sure, Quirrell often said that size mattered not, but he was talking about the size of one's wand, not…how fat someone was!

He supposed Magical Britain might have been a bit out of touch from modern culture, but it wasn't hundreds of years ago anymore, where being fat was an indicator that one was prosperous and healthy. In a place like Hogwarts, where one didn't have to worry about "affording" food, it just made one look undisciplined – weak against the temptations of the flesh, something that he, thankfully was resistant towards.

…at least when it came to food.

Still, as much as he might have continued to stew about such things, the train pulling into the station meant that he had little time to do so, and so, he stepped off the train with his luggage, like everyone else around him.

Following the flow as he was, he nearly ended up walking along with the first years, only to stop short as someone stopped right in front of him, with the boy just barely keeping himself from running into the individual and bowling…her over.

And it was definitely a her, he could tell, as the girl in question turned towards him.

' _She's…Japanese,'_ was the only thought in his mind, as dark eyes set in a face framed by flowing black hair regarded him impassively, her delicate features betraying no trace of emotion at all.

Before he could say anything, the girl turned away and walked off, leaving him wondering what that was all about.

He was about to follow and ask, when he heard someone calling his name.

"Matou, you're going the wrong way," Phelan was saying, with the boy starting as he realized that the Earl's son of all people, was calling him out. "We're second years now, remember? Only first years take the boats."

"Oh," was all the boy could say to that, as he shook his head and turned in the direction the Gryffindor had indicated. "Thanks," he said as he fell into step beside the boy.

"Don't mention it," the young noble replied generously. "Want to share a carriage? We could talk a bit more about summer stuff."

"I'll think about it," Shinji answered, only for Phelan to raise an eyebrow.

"What's there to think about?" Phelan asked, though even as he did, a shadow crept over his features. "…don't tell me you'd rather sit with my sister?"

Shinji, not wanting to offend the boisterous Gryffindor, said nothing, instead speeding up his steps so he pulled ahead and away.

"Hey, wait up!" the Earl's son called out, but the boy wasn't about to wait, letting his feet carry him towards the clearing where the carriages waited, as—

"What are those?" he found himself asking, with Phelan, who was in something of a hurry, slamming into him from behind and knocking him over. "Do you mind?" he said irascibly, as he dusted himself off, annoyed that now his robes were stained with dirt. "What was that for?"

"Why'd you just stop like that?" Phelan asked in turn.

The boy gestured to the sight in the clearing in front of them: bone-white carriages pulled by skeletal, black-winged horses.

"That," Shinji said emphatically.

"You mean…carriages without horses?" Phelan questioned, seeming rather confused. "I mean, we're at a magical school, Matou. And the boats last year steered and moved by themselves too, so…"

"…you don't see them?" the Japanese boy asked incredulously. "They're right there."

" _What_ is right there?" the Earl's son questioned, feeling a bit put out that his…friend was insisting on this charade of pretending something was in front of them.

"You're telling me you can't see the skeletal horses with jet black wings?" Shinji spelled out, his face a mask of disbelief that Phelan would continue to gainsay him. "Are you being serious, or…?"

"…did you hit your head, Matou?" Phelan asked, now seeming somewhat concerned. "All I see are carriages. Not…whatever strange things you think you're seeing."

"Thestrals," a voice supplied, with the Earl's son almost jumping back as he saw Selina Moore walk up to the edge of the clearing, with a girl who looked very much like her by her side. Both of them had odd looks on their face. "He's seeing thestrals."

"They can only be seen by people who have seen death," the other girl – Lily de Lune – said gently, with Phelan's expression becoming rather chagrined.

"Ah," the Earl's son uttered, realizing that he'd been the one in the wrong – and that Selina had seen him being so vehemently so. He bowed to Matou. "My apologies for doubting you, my friend."

Shinji just waved the apology off, even as he digested the new piece of information that Lily had given him.

"…only seen by those who have seen death, huh?" he echoed.

"That's right," Selina confirmed.

"I see," Shinji noted softly, shaking his head. _That_ would explain some things, he imagined.

"Shall we?" Selina asked, gesturing to the carriages, with Shinji initially moving to join her, though he thought better of it – after he'd stowed his luggage on one of the carriages.

"Actually, I need some time to think," he said, hopping off the carriage.

"…you're not going to walk to the castle, are you?" Lily questioned, a touch of concern in her voice.

"…rather than walk, I think I'm going to trot," he responded, a response that provoked a confused _'Huh' from_ Phelan right before Shinji turned into a mule and proceeded to _trot_ to the front of the column that would soon be headed to Hogwarts, drawing a few gasps and murmur from the occupants of the carriages he passed.

Perhaps it should have been obvious to him that his actions would cause a stir, given how few animagi there were in Britain, but the boy didn't particularly care, and so took the opportunity to be alone with his thoughts.

* * *

That Matou Shinji could become a mule was only one of the items people would talk about that night, however, given some of the other things on people's minds, such as the fact that Rubeus Hagrid would re-starting at Hogwarts this year as a third year, or that there were several exchange students. Even having one was rare at the best of times, and two…that was unprecedented.

There was also the usual speculation on who would become the Headmaster or Headmistress, as one had not yet been appointed by the Board of Governors, a cause of some concern for a number of students, and the usual wondering – and betting – on what notables would be assigned to what houses, as well as the surprise that Quirinus Quirrell was still the Defense Professor, since no one else had lasted more than a year in…decades.

It was perhaps not a huge surprise when Rubeus Hagrid, who is continuing his education after a long period...away, was sorted into Hufflepuff (which was one of the two likely bets, as no one thought he would become a Ravenclaw, and only a few thought he might become a Slytherin), or when Lily de Lune, the exchange student from Beauxbatons, was sorted in Slytherin, as some had seen her in the presence of Selina Moore.

Perhaps more surprising, however, was how a member of the Weasley family was sorted into Slytherin, as was her friend, the enigmatic Luna Lovegood. Such an event scandalized a good many across the school - and caused more than a little money to change hands, given that for as long as there had been Weasleys at Hogwarts, they had all been sorted into Gryffindor.

As such, that the youngest Weasley would join that self-same house had been regarded as the very safest of bets...until now.

At that particular realization, more than one young person let out an expletive, either muffled or...in quite an explosive fashion, as no one who wasn't a Malfoy had that many Galleons to spare, and losing even one because of a Weasley of all people...

That was why no one really paid attention to the fact that there had been yet another student from Japan this year, one Momiji Kaede, who was sorted into Hufflepuff, a somewhat shy seeming girl whose head Natsumi's sparrow seemed to like perching on.

As she had slipped silently into the seat beside him, her dark eyes looking over the Great Hall with a rather disinterested air, Matou Shinji felt it was his responsibility to make her feel welcome. After all, he was sure that senpai would do the same in his place - no, she had done the same, hadn't she, given that Natsumi had mentioned Miyuki-senpai talking with Momiji-san.

"Welcome," he said, to which the girl simply turned to him, her expression utterly blank. "I'm glad you came to Hufflepuff."

"Why?" the girl questioned, her frank, emotionless voice taking the boy aback.

"...would you rather speak in Japanese?" Shinji asked in his mother tongue, thinking that the more familiar language might help make the newcomer feel more comfortable. "I know that I wasn't too confident with my English when I first came here. And I studied in Britain before too."

"It makes little difference, Matou Shinji," the raven-haired girl replied in Japanese, though accented in a way he was unfamiliar with. At least, it wasn't Tokyo-ben or Kansai-ben. "Whatever tongue you speak, you remain just as strange."

The boy blinked, momentarily wondering how it was that she knew his name before he realized that Miyuki-senpai must have mentioned him to the girl. Her accent though, that...

"You are...from Hokkaido?" he guessed, switching back to English, as she had said it didn't matter.

And yet as she spoke, her preference seemed to make itself clear.

"Hokkaido?" she repeated slowly, before nodding. "Yes. Hokkaido is where I am from."

Shinji frowned at this, though he quickly banished the expression from his face, as he didn't want the first year to think he was frowning because of her. Or at her, even if her discomfort with English...reminded him of how he had been when he'd first come here.

"Are you tired?" he asked, in Japanese this time.

"You ask many questions," she observed in the same language, eyeing him eerily.

"...not too many, I hope?" the boy noted hopefully, hiding a wince as he hoped he wasn't annoying her. Only a few sentences in and already he was being a terrible senpai.

The girl's lack of response said more than even the most biting comment would have, with Shinji feeling rather hurt as she returned to looking around, though she seemed more interested in how Natsumi's sparrow fluttered out to hand as she stretched it out.

"You're good with birds," Natsumi observed.

"I am simply used to them," Kaede murmured, a wordless whistling leaving her lips in the next moment as the bird took flight. "As they are used to me."

"Oh?" Shinji found himself asking. "They're...used to you?"

"Yes," was the only response he received to that - and the last he would receive during dinner, though oddly, the boy noticed that Kaede didn't really seem to eat.

* * *

After dinner, the students were dismissed to head to their dormitories, as the first years needed to learn where their new homes were, and everyone else needed a chance to socialize and learn their schedules for the rest of the year. It was largely the usual routine, so Shinji made a beeline for the couches, thinking that this year, he could avoid the issue of...inanely socializing with everyone and everything.

As Shinji eased himself into an overstuffed chair by the Common Room's fireplace after dinner, opening up the much-read book on Soul Magic he had studied with Selina over the summer, he found himself thinking about what things had been like during his first year, when in truth, he'd been very much alone, with only Miyuki-senpai and Natsumi helping to make the transition something...that wasn't painful. Well, less painful than it otherwise might have been anyway, though it wasn't an entirely painless process.

Nothing really was, when all was said and done.

Over the year, things had changed for the better, and now he even had friends outside of Hufflepuff. And people who were more than friends, like Selina who he considered more a sister than a friend, and Amber who...well, whatever she was to him.

Since he'd already built up so many social connections, he didn't really see the need to engage in the usual ritual of small talk with unimportant people, since everyone he'd wanted to talk to he'd either seen on the train or would see in private later, unlike loudmouths like Zacharias Smith who thought that using up all the oxygen in the room translated to making friends.

The first years though - he could see how they needed to socialize, since none of them knew each other yet, their enthusiasm and curiosity providing a nice bit of background noise for his reading.

Only...as he tried to concentrate on the book of forbidden magic in his lap, he found his eyes being drawn to a first year who stood apart from the crowd: the dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty named Momiji Kaede.

 _'This won't do,'_ he thought, closing his book and getting out of his seat as he walked over to her.

"Shouldn't you be talking to some of the others?" he asked as he approached her.

"You," she observed tonelessly.

"Yes, me," Shinji replied with a smile. "Who else would I be, after all?" he quipped.

His remark failed to elicit much of a reaction from the girl, however, as she simply looked past him, her gaze slowly taking in the room, but not the people.

 _'The plants...she's looking at all of the plants...'_

His suspicions were confirmed when she paused to stare at the door leading to the garden.

"...see something you like?" he asked.

"The plants here are well-cared for," Kaede murmured, her voice almost...wistful, showing a sign of emotion for the first time.

"Hufflepuff is the House that most respects nature," the boy stated. "And as for the gardens, Miyuki-senpai spends much of her time there." He smiled slightly, though there was a slight hint of pain in his expression. "Sometimes I think she likes plants more than people."

Kaede just looked at him as if he'd said something incredibly obvious.

"People are confusing," the Japanese girl observed. "Loud. Dishonest. Full of Contradictions. Always in a rush. Always..."

"...well, true, if you speak of the British," Shinji joked - in Japanese, so no one would else would understand him. "Especially at feasts - I don't know why they eat so quickly or fight over food. There's always enough, even if it _is_ too heavy."

But the girl shook her head.

"I speak of people," she corrected. "Plants are...simpler. Easier to understand."

"They are?"

"They are honest. Patient. Present. Always in the moment."

"I'm not sure they see time as people do," Shinji observed thoughtfully.

"They don't," Kaede murmured, seeming utterly certain of her words. For a moment, the boy thought he was beginning to understand her, but then... "Good night."

With that, she turned to go, heading up to the dormitories, alone.

 _'What a confusing girl,'_ he thought as he watched her go.

"A dinner and a chat and you're already head over heels for a new girl?" a voice questioned from behind him, with Shinji turning with a start to see a mischievously smiling Natsumi. "Aren't Amber and I enough for you?"

"Um, uh..."

"Kidding," the brunette quipped, with the boy feeling like he'd dodged a point-blank blasting curse. "It's fun teasing you like that."

"Is it? Not from where I'm standing."

"Oh, you know, it all depends on your certain point of view," Natsumi said, as if quoting from something. Then a hint of something else entered her voice. "So, you never told me you could turn into a mule."

"...it...never came up?" Shinji hazarded. "I only got the ability this summer anyway."

"Hm...I wonder what else you did this summer that didn't 'come up,'" the girl asked, her smile somewhat lopsided. "Is there anything you want tell me about? Things you didn't mention on the train?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," Natsumi said coyly. "You tell me."

"There's nothing, really," Shinji offered, but when his friend didn't seem convinced, amended his statement. "...nothing I feel guilty about?"

In response, Natsumi just reached into her bag and pulled out a folded newspaper.

...a french newspaper, now that he recognized it, with a very familiar picture on it, featuring a certain mule being ridden by two part-Veela, with the beast having a very...unmule-like reaction.

The headline of that particular issue of Les Echoes Magique, translated into something like _"International Mule of Mystery?! A Rogue Animagus infiltrates Beauxbatons?!"_

"So you don't feel guilty for this?" the brunette questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Urk...um, no?" Shinji tried to say, only he wasn't very convincing. "Um, where did you get that?"

"Oh, Selina sent some letters over the summer, mostly to Amber, who shared them with me," Natsumi said with an almost frighteningly serene smile. "It was fun, seeing some of the things you got up to. Like visiting the beach and all."

"Heh...ah, heh...well, the French Riviera is famous for its beaches! Shame to visit France and not go, you know?" Shinji replied, his eyes darting back and forth, as if trying to find an escape route - only she was between him and the male dorms.

"Well, that's true," Natsumi allowed. "But you know, since you're a mule, I'm sure Amber will be quite excited."

Shinji tilted his head, not sure what she meant by that.

"After all, she misses going for rides in the morning."

"Um..."

"And being the gentleman you are, I'm sure you don't mind letting her ride around the school a bit?" the brunette inquired, her smile quite devilish. "Unless you only give rides to beautiful French girls..." She glanced down at his crotch, and the boy reddened, remembering the sensations of that evening.

"N-no," he sputtered. "That's...no, no, um, I'll be happy to give her a ride. Really."

"Good, and we look forward to hearing all about your summer soon," Natsumi said as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, before heading up to her dorm room, leaving Shinji feeling as if his knees were about to buckle from embarrassment - or that he was about to sink into stone he swore should be molten from how hot he felt.

By the time he managed to move again, most everyone had gone off to their rooms, leaving him more or less alone in the Common Room.

 _'Peace at last,'_ he thought to himself, as he padded over to the chair once more and settled in for a bit of light reading on using bits of his soul to amplify spells, or to cleanse himself of foreign spell effects. It really quite ingenious - even if the person who'd written the book had obviously been more than a little mad. After all, who mutilated their own soul for a bit of power?

Before he knew it, an hour had gone by, perhaps more, and he was feeling quite tired.

Still, he thought he might as well check on some of the plants Miyuki-senpai had so carefully tended last year, if only to see how they were doing after a long summer.

With that in mind, he closed his book and made his way to the enclosed garden of Hufflepuff, only to blink as he opened the door and found Momiji Kaede there, humming a wordless melody as she moved glowing fingers over the soil, and over plants that looked slightly brown, as they straightened and greened, with a few whose flowers had wilted blooming again.

He closed the door, shaking his head to clear it. That...she couldn't be there - he must be seeing things from how tired he was.

And sure enough, when he opened the door once more, he found himself alone in a silent room.

There was no Kaede there.

No one singing.

Only the flowers and the herbs blooming.


	5. Morning Thoughts

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

* * *

 **Chapter 5.** _Morning Thoughts_

After the strange happenings of the night before, Matou Shinji thought it best to get some sleep so that he could wake up early in the morning, and hopefully – finally – give his present to _Senpai_ , as some things were better done away from the prying eyes of others.

He didn't want to imagine what everyone would say if he gave her a glass rose imbued with the magical essence of moonlight, as well as an ancient, yet obviously magical book about Alchemy, with a cover of brass, pages wrought from the bark of young trees, a book whose contents were _handwritten_ in some kind of strange brown ink.

' _Blood maybe,'_ he'd mused. He'd seen it before in other books – those in the Matou library, and as such it wasn't enough to warn him away from a relic of the past from the very shop that Nicholas Flamel had once run.

…nothing but the best would do for Senpai, after all – even if that best had ended up burning a hole in his pocket to the tune of 500 Galleons – and it would all be worth it to see her look of surprise at his gifts.

He didn't really dare to hope, but maybe…maybe she'd give him a hug, or a kiss on the cheek. Or maybe she even had even gotten something for him? Had thought of him even while enjoying her time at _Mahoutokoro,_ as he had thought of her through the long and lonely nights.

And so, before the sun had even peeked above the horizon, Matou Shinji found himself bounding down the stairs in his excitement, his smile widening as he saw the door to the gardens cracked open.

"Senpai!" he called out, just barely keeping himself from rushing through he door with unseemly haste.

And then he laid eyes on her, beautiful as ever as she tended to her plants and he was struck all over again with how wonderful she was, with how much joy she brought into his life just by being who she was.

"Matou," she greeted, looking up at him with her warm, amber-colored eyes. "Have you been well?"

"Yes, senpai," the boy whispered. "I am – things are well."

How could they be otherwise when Tsuji Miyuki was before him once again, with a faint smile on her lips?

"Are…are you well?" he asked, licking his lips, which had gone dry all of the sudden. "Was summer…good?"

His usual eloquence, if he could be said to have any, faded away in the presence of the intoxicating beauty of his senpai, for how could words express how wonderful she was? How much she meant to him.

"The summer?" Miyuki echoed, with Shinji nodding.

"Yes senpai," he confirmed, his expression wry. "I've been to _Mahoutokoro_ before, but only once," he reminded her. It was, after all, where he had obtained his wand, a custom creation made with wood from the Great Tree...and a Grail-tainted Crest worm as a core. And while it was true that he had a second wand he could rely on these days - the Olive wand that Sokaris had gifted him, he would always remember the process of gaining his first wand - and his encounter with some of the stranger denizens of the City Under Earth. "What was it like, spending the summer there?"

"It was...productive," the raven-haired girl related. Briefly, she sketched out the things she had been involved with at the Japanese school, from potions masterclasses and herbology work with one Sajyou Ayaka, to getting an introduction to _onmyoudou_ from a young man named Kaizuka Mitsune.

"...sometimes called _kitsune?"_ Shinji hazarded, if only to distract himself from the thought of another boy spending so much time with _senpai._

"Apparently so, though I saw no tails, so I am unsure if he was a _youkai_ ," the older girl confirmed. Miyuki paused for a moment. "You should ask Natsumi and Amber about their summers - they had much more free time and could share with you what they thought of the City."

"But I want to hear about you, senpai. What you learned, what you saw, what you experienced... _everything_ ," Shinji said breathlessly, and perhaps with a bit too much intensity. "Were you studying the entire time or...?"

"I did go on an excursion to Hokkaido, where Sajyou-san showed me a number of rare plants and tested my ability to survive in the wilderness," the older Hufflepuff admitted. "I am...unsure if you would have enjoyed the experience."

"Why?"

"Matou, do you know how to cook?" she asked.

The question threw Shinji for a loop, as no one had every asked him that before.

"...does it count if I know how to boil water for ramen?" he replied, trading a question for a question - and hoping that Miyuki-senpai would at least be amused by his answer.

But "No. That does not count," was Miyuki's answer. "We made our way through the forests and grasslands, foraging along the way, with Sajyou-san pointing out edible plants and the two of us making dinner from such ingredients each night."

"J-just the two of you? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Perhaps," the older Hufflepuff admitted. "But facing such danger is something of a rite of passage in the East."

"Oh," Shinji uttered. "And...you succeeded, right, senpai?"

"...yes," was her response.

"I'm glad."

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Shinji asked guilelessly. "Senpai is amazing, and its good that other people can see it."

"You give me too much credit, Matou. I am simply a person finding her way through the world, like anyone else."

"No, not like anyone else! Senpai is senpai, not anyone else!" the boy insisted. "Irreplaceable."

At that, Tsuji Miyuki raised an eyebrow.

"That did not appear to be the case from the letters that Amber Noel received," the raven-haired girl replied mildly. "From the pictures, you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"I..." but the boy's voice trailed off, as he felt a surge of shame. "Yes, but it wasn't the same without you, senpai. It would have been wonderful if you had been there."

"Perhaps," the older girl conceded. The two stood together in a companionable silence as Miyuki tended to her plants, paying special attention to the tea she was cultivating.

"...can I work with you in the greenhouse again this year?" Shinji found himself asking, hoping that the older Hufflepuff wasn't upset with him for some reason. "I...I would really like to learn more about Herbology, senpai, and I think working with you..."

"Is there a reason you wish to work on Herbology, and not some other discipline?"

"Well, um, you can do amazing things with it, senpai, so it must be good!" he answered earnestly, to which Tsuji Miyuki smiled, a distant, almost sad smile.

"You should not use what I do as a measure of what you will enjoy," she cautioned.

"But you enjoy it, senpai!" Shinji protested.

"If you insist, I will not stop you, Matou," the raven-haired girl relented. "Just know that you may not be the only one I work with in the greenhouse."

Shinji felt a stab of ice-cold fear in his gut.

"You...you don't mean..."

She wouldn't be working with _Nigel_ , would she? Or...

"I will be working on a collaboration with Momiji Kaede," the girl spoke, her words banishing his fear. "She is not good with..."

"...with people?" Shinji wondered.

"With living," was the confusing response. "Much like myself, sometimes."

"That's nonsense!" the boy protested. "How could you be bad at living?"

It didn't make sense. She was the one he looked up to – who seemed to have everything going so well for her, even if there was sometimes, that dangerous sense of fragility about her.

"Everyone has sides of themselves they don't want to share with others, Matou," Miyuki murmured distantly, her voice almost sad. "I'm sure you have things you would rather not tell me, yes?"

But Shinji shook his head.

"No. I would tell you everything, Senpai," the boy replied earnestly. "I trust you, more than anyone, more than anything. More so even than myself."

Not that he really trusted himself, but…he didn't really think Tsuji Miyuki should be so surprised by this, at least if the way she'd gone utterly still meant anything at all – and he thought it did.

Taking advantage of the moment of silence, the boy bent to one knee and presented his senpai with gifts he had gotten her – gifts worth a prince's – or perhaps a princess' ransom.

The flower of the silver moon, glowing faintly in the dimness before dawn, releasing just a hint of fragrance and musk as her fingers tore open the dull paper it was wrapped in, and the young woman gasped.

It was a quiet sound, but one that was clearly audible in the silence before dawn, and the boy could clearly see the look of surprise and wonder on his senior's face.

"You made this?" she questioned.

"I did," the boy confirmed with a soft smile. "It was a lot of work. And it might not be perfect, but I hope you like it."

He'd…he'd poured his love into it, after all, even if he was too embarrassed to say that out loud.

"It is a beautiful gift," the raven-haired girl murmured. "Thank you, Matou. I will treasure it."

For Matou Shinji, such words were enough to put him on top of the world. To make him feel as if he had slain a dragon – no, had been some great hero who had done the impossible and had, oh, slain a TYPE threatening the world with destruction, as warmth welled up in his chest, and a smile stole over his lips.

Senpai had accepted his gift – had liked it.

The thought was enough to make him want to dance with joy, yet…he knew that would be unseemly in front of the beautiful, always dignified Tsuji Miyuki, so he kept his calm. Somehow.

"Oh, but that's not the only thing I have for you," he said, noting how the older girl seemed surprised by this, and finding it wonderful – utterly so. He passed to her the tome he'd bought from Flamel's old shop, this one wrapped in black oilcloth.

"What is this?" Miyuki asked, as she unwrapped it to see a gleaming cover of brass.

"A book on alchemy," Shinji explained. "At least I think it is. It was rare and precious – and I thought you would like it, since you like potions so."

"…Matou, this gift…" she began, clearly hesitant.

"Please, take it – I bought it while thinking of you, and it would very happy if you could find a use for it," he insisted.

"…very well," his senpai agreed after some thought. In turn, she took a dagger – no, not a dagger, a sheathed _tantou_ from her waist, and passed it to him. "Something for you then."

Shinji felt honored to receive such a gift as he accepted it, given that it was like something out of the days of old, when a loyal retainer was given the right to carry a sword by his master – or mistress, in this case. At the same time, in the modern era, people didn't usually just give blades to one another, as that signified a cutting of bonds, so there was a hint of confusion there.

"Is there anything special about this blade?" he asked. Not that he needed there to be something special. The very fact that senpai was giving this to him made it more than special enough. "Beyond the fact that it was yours, Miyuki-senpai?"

"It was a tantou once thought lost to the flames of Honnoji," the raven-haired girl explained, with Shinji visibly starting at that piece of information. Honnoji – then this had once belonged to the mighty Oda Nobunaga, one of the three unifiers of Japan?! It was all he could do not to gape like a fish in his shock. "I won't say its name, but it was a sword that is said to never harm its owner."

"To never harm its owner…" Shinji blinked, frowning. "You don't mean…that Toushirou blade?"

"You know of it," Miyuki noted, her tone almost approving. "How like a boy."

He spent the next hour or so by Senpai's side, helping her with her plants and enjoying a cup of tea, until he heard the distinctive sound of Natsumi coming down the stairs.

"You are going, Matou?" the older girl questioned.

"There was…a misunderstanding I wanted to clear up with Nats," the boy responded, his smile somewhat lopsided. "I don't want her or Amber to get the wrong idea after all."

"Well then, Matou, enjoy your breakfast."

The boy blinked.

"Breakfast?"

"It is likely what you and Nats will be doing," Miyuki predicted, with Shinji acknowledging that she was probably right as he said his goodbyes, feeling that everything was right with the world.

* * *

As it happened, he indeed end up going to breakfast with Natsumi and Amber, a much more tasty affair than the Welcome Feast had been for Shinji, given that tea and sweets made for a much more delightful meal than all sorts of fried meats early in the morning. Amber, of course, talked about her time wandering _Mahoutokoro_ and her encounters with a number of odd shopkeepers, from the strange proprietor of Asplund's Shop of Horrors to a reclusive, anti-social bookstore owner named Toroi Surein.

"Huh. I know him," Shinji remarked of the latter. "Or at least, I met him once."

"He isn't the happiest man in the world," Amber noted. "Very lonely - but then, both of them are." She frowned then, recalling something. "By the way, Asplund said something about being Fes-ranked before he left Britain. Do you know what he meant by that?"

Shinji blinked.

Certainly, he knew of a rank called Fes, but...that was a rank at the Clock Tower.

"A little above middle-ranked," the boy explained, hiding a frown. "Fes is the fourth of seven ranks in...an association of practitioners."

Grand, of course, was the highest, though very few people could lay claim to that, with Frame being the lowest, and Fes - or Festival - being in the middle. That is, it was often given to mature magi without any outstanding powers. A purely average magus usually never rose above Cause.

"An association of practitioners?" Amber echoed. "Outside the magical nations, you mean?"

"...yes," Shinji replied, thinking of how to explain it. "Think of it like...a university?" If a university had some degree of military might, managed patents, and engaged in diplomatic relations with other great factions, anyway.

"Huh. I didn't know there were any in the wizarding world," Amber noted with interest. "Is your family part of this association?"

"...you could say that," Shinji answered, not really sure how much more would be safe to share. "My grandfather was, anyway. They are...they have very high standards."

That was, one _had_ to have circuits and be able to do nature interference magecraft to be accepted into their company.

"Not your parents?"

"...I don't really want to talk about... _them_ ," he said, shaking his head. "Anyway, its not worth thinking about the Association for now."

" _The a_ ssociation?" Natsumi echoed. "I thought you said the Fes-rank was just a title for one association, not that there was only one association..."

"Um, yeah. Its not worth thinking about Associations, I mean, since we're all still in school," he said, trying to cover for his slipup, though Amber didn't seem entirely convinced.

"You know others from this group though," she said. It wasn't really a guess.

"...yes," he admitted. "The person who first brought me to _Mahoutokoro_ used to be part of it. She was Grand-ranked too, and was one of the greatest practitioners in the world."

"Oh?" Amber questioned. "Was she...one of the people who ran _Mahoutokoro?"_

"No," Shinji responded. "She's...she makes things. Like Selina does, only far more intricate."

"What's her name?"

"Aozaki Touko," Shinji answered readily. "Her sister is powerful too, but...much scarier."

"How much scarier?"

"...well, you know how we learned about Lord Voldemort?" Shinji asked.

"Yeah?"

"Her sister is as far beyond Voldemort as Voldemort is beyond a first year in destructive power," the boy related, with Natsumi seeming rather taken aback by this.

"How...how can there be someone so dangerous in the world?"

And more to the point, how could someone like that exist without any of them having heard about her? Surely, if such a person existed, they would all know of her...

"I don't know the full story myself," Shinji admitted, "but in the case of people like this, sometimes it's safer not to know."

As someone raised in a magus family, Matou Shinji knew that some things were better not shared at all - or if one had to speak of them, then the less shared the better. With other things, however, like what he had done in the summer, perhaps full disclosure was a better course of action. At least then his friends wouldn't be operating off of a decidedly slanted bit of information (i.e. Selina's letters and photographs).

"Speaking of the full story," he said, an awkward segue at best, but then, he was only twelve and thus not expected to be a grand orator, "I suppose you'd like to know what I was up to this summer."

"Oh, I have some idea," Amber replied, though her voice was perhaps bit more...clipped than usual, with a tinge of frostiness to it. "Lady Selina sent me letters. You, however..."

"I'm...sorry?" Shinji offered. "I...I had other things on my mind. There was a lot to do this summer."

"Clearly." If anything, the copper-haired girl seemed even frostier than before. "Things like Selina in her swimsuit, of course. Or giving rides to beautiful french girls - which you _obviously_ enjoyed."

"Um...I...what do you mean, Selina in her swimsuit?" the boy asked, somewhat confused.

Amber sniffed, producing a single photograph from her pocket - one that featured Shinji at the beach, with a swimsuit-clad Selina holding onto him from behind, her head resting on his shoulder, and the hazy sunset sky in the distance.

The boy's eyes went wide.

"W-where did you get that?" he blurted out before he could help himself, as Amber just looked at him as if he was an idiot.

"Where do you think?" the copper-haired girl asked with a sniff.

Shinji blinked.

"...then, she didn't send you the other pictures?" he asked.

"Other pictures?"

"Yeah, we took a lot of them that day, Selina, Lily and I," the boy babbled. "Selina made me - insisted that we should have some memories of our time together!"

"Your time together?" Amber repeated tonelessly.

"You know..." Shinji said, groping for words. "She's...she's like the sister I never had. Spending time with her...it felt like...being with family. In a good way."

"But I thought you had a sister?" Natsumi interjected, confused.

Shinji felt a lance of white-hot rage race through his head at the mention of the adopted Tohsaka.

"I don't consider that waste of oxygen a _sister_ ," the boy snapped, his features cruel and cold, his eyes flashing red in the dim light.

"Matou-kun..." Natsumi whispered worriedly, with the boy realizing where he was as he closed his eyes, focusing on the strands of his soul that were quivering with fury and soothing them, forcing them back into the tapestry of his self before the darkness inside him could fully take hold. "Are you-"

"Like I said, I don't consider _her_ asister," Shinji stated as he opened his eyes. "Not when she stole everything from me. The poor, pitiful girl whose family threw her away, who _wormed_ her way into mine. She's no sister of mine."

"And Selina is?" Amber asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Shinji said frankly. "We get along. We share interests. We respect one another. It's...nice being around her, even if her skills intimidate me a bit." Her social skills most, but yes, her crafting abilities as well. "We're a good match. She's...I can trust her with things." Things like dealing with the darkness inside of him, and the forbidden arts that helped him to put himself back together.

"With... _things_?" Natsumi echoed.

"...certain kinds of magic I probably shouldn't talk about too much when others are listening," the boy said, glancing around suspiciously. Luckily, none of the house elves seemed to be paying attention at the moment.

"Oh, like the book you were reading from last night?" Natsumi questioned.

"Yes, exac-" The boy's mouth shut with a click. "...I hope you didn't tell anyone about it?"

"Matou-kun, I don't do things like that," she said reprovingly. "I'm a good girl."

"...Nats, I'll grant that you might act like one on occasion, but..." Amber trailed off.

Natsumi stuck out her tongue, with Amber shaking her head and chuckling.

"So then, Matou," Amber asked. "If Selina is like the sister you never had...then what are Natsumi and I to you?"

 _'What Nats and Amber are to me, huh?'_ the boy wondered. It _was_ a good question, mostly since he'd never really thought about it much. Not like senpai - who he idolized, or Selina, who was basically family - but in a good way.

Part of him wanted to say that Nats and Amber were his friends, though he wasn't sure that either was just a friend - or even if he wanted them to only be "friends."

Part of him wanted to just say "a flower in each hand," after the old Japanese saying, but the boy had read enough books to know that saying something like that _usually_ didn't work out - even if one was Genji, from the Tale of Genji.

And he knew they weren't sisters...

...at least his body did, given that he sometimes dreamed of kissing Amber...or being kissed by Nats, or some improbable scenario like them kissing each other wearing only gauzy lingerie while beckoning him to join them.

"My hope and my light," he found himself saying as he smiled at both of them. "Who give me the strength to face the days ahead, no matter what darkness lies within, and who bring color to this dull existence of mine."

"So are one of us your 'hope' and the other your 'light'? Like someone who brings you hope and someone who is the light of your life?" Natsumi inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Or do you mean that both of us are-"

"Both of you are," Shinji said hurriedly. "I mean, you're best friends, right? Is it wrong to share a spot?"

Natsumi threw Amber a meaningful glance to find that the other girl's cheeks had gone quite red, though as Shinji looked over at her worriedly, she waved him off, saying something about the room being cold.

"So it's like _that_ huh?" the brunette noted, shaking her head. "I suppose I don't mind sharing if its with Amber. We _are_ good at sharing, after all."

"Well, yes, I suppose so," Amber said somewhat stiffly. "Never tried something like...this before, but we may as well give it an old girls school try."

"Oh, before I forget," Shinji said absentmindedly, as he took a package from under his seat. "This is for you, Amber."

He handed it over to the blushing girl, who opened it with a gasp to see rather classy looking red shoes.

"These are..."

"Shoes made with an enchantment to enhance mobility - to help you dance with your blade...or on the dance floor, not that you need any help with the latter."

"Well, how would you know? You haven't really danced with me before."

"We'll just have to fix that then," Shinji answered, promise in his voice. Then he reached into his robes and pulled out something else, which he handed to Natsumi.

"A book?" the other girl asked, as she unwrapped it to find a copy of Leonard Spencer-Moon's _History of the Grindelwald Incident_. "Amber gets beautiful dancing shoes, and I get a book?"

She pouted, puffing out her cheeks in the innocently adorable way of hers.

"What?" Shinji asked innocently. "It's a history book I thought you'd find interesting, since it's about a powerful Dark Lord."

Natsumi blinked.

"See? You can't say I don't pay attention to history when I listen enough to buy you something you'll like - a book about a man who loved his intrigues and his schemes," Shinji responded with a tiny smile.

"...I'll believe that when you don't fall asleep today, Matou, not before."

Talk turned to lighter matters after that, with Shinji speaking of the Gindelwald Memorial Museum he visited, some of the events at Tarascon (for Amber's benefit), and his studies in how to become an animagus.

"Should we try to learn that skill ourselves?" Amber asked.

"I don't see why not," Shinji replied. "After all, it wouldn't be fair if I was the only one being ridden."

Perhaps he'd said something wrong, for Natsumi snickered, while Amber…well, she turned beet red.


	6. A More Civilized Age

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

* * *

 **Chapter 6.** _A More Civilized Age_

Alas, as fun – or awkward – as breakfast with Natsumi and Amber might have been, all good things came to an end, and soon enough, the trio found themselves headed to the dungeons for a double session of Potions with Professor Slughorn.

"Why are you coming this way, Amber?" Shinji asked, frowning as he noticed that the copper-haired girl remined by their side instead of breaking off to head for another class. "Don't you have another class to get to?"

"No, Potions is with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff this time," the young noblewoman replied, with Shinji blinking.

"Huh. I thought it was Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?" the boy said, confused.

"That was last year – I think things have changed around a bit with the new Professors," Natsumi supplied, with Shinji grunting at that.

"Oh. Why change though – things seemed to work well enough, I thought…?"

"Maybe they just wanted to see if there would be less trouble if they swapped people around," the Japanese girl suggested.

"Well, maybe," Shinji allowed. On the bright side, that _did_ mean that he wouldn't have to deal with a potential judgmental Hermione Granger. Granted, the two of them seemed to get on a bit better since the challenge they'd been on together, but he still didn't want to think about how she would react if she learned that his performance in potions largely hinged on two things: 1) what little he understood of the teachings of Sialim Sokaris, and 2) the notes and suggestions scribbled in the margins of the potions book he owned – a book which had once belonged to some half-blood prince.

He glanced over at Amber, wondering what _she_ would think if she knew.

' _Well, if she's friends with Nats, I think she'll be fine with it.'_

After all, the boy was quite sure by now that Nats had gotten herself into more trouble than he had ever managed, though he reluctantly granted that she probably also had a knack for getting herself _out_ of trouble as well, something he lacked, by comparison.

Still, he wondered what task Slughorn would set before them for the first class.

' _If it is something like last year, he'll make us create a potion to test our skills – and depending on how we do, there might be a reward…'_

So it proved once class began, with the trio sliding into seats just before Slughorn emerged from his office.

"Welcome, welcome," the corpulent man greeted his class jovially, his eyes pausing slightly on Shinji, Natsumi, and Ernie – the three students who had done so well last year. "It is good to see you all after what was no doubt an enjoyable summer holiday." He smiled genially as he took in the crop of students. "You may be wondering why I have changed the usual pairings of classes," the Potions Master observed. "The reason for that is I want you all to have a chance to work with others you may not be used to. Perhaps you will make new friends. Perhaps you will learn a new technique. Perhaps you will even find that you have… _chemistry_ with one of your partners."

The muggleborns in the class groaned at the terrible pun, while the purebloods merely looked confused, with Slughorn noting both sets of reactions accordingly.

"I know that some of you have…preferred partners. Or groups," he said meaningfully, once more looking to the area where Shinji and Natsumi sat. "But since it is the new year, let us try some new groups, shall we? For today's purposes, I'd like each of you to work with someone from another House, if possible, as we learn to make the Grand Wiggenweld Potion – a much more potent variant of the basic potion you are used to." He chuckled. "As you know, said potion is very effective at rousing someone from sleep, which is why we are brewing now. After all, rumor has it that the new History teacher would not appreciate people sleeping in his class, unlike my former colleague."

This comment startled a laugh out of most of the students, if a nervous one, as they were unaccustomed to hearing one of their professors joke like this.

"In the next few minutes, choose a partner – but don't take too long, since you will be graded on whatever you manage to complete during this lesson."

As the students looked about speculatively, Shinji glanced at Amber, giving her a tentative smile.

"Be my partner?" he asked.

"…sure," she said, almost shyly. "I'd be glad to."

"…I should have known," Natsumi grumbled, having turned around a moment too late. "Well, nothing to be done then," she said, getting out of her chair and walking over to Phelan Noel. "I don't really like you all that well," she said plainly, "but I at least know you can do good work when you have to. Want to work together?"

"I'll pass, thanks," the young noble said, shaking his head. "I'm going to work with good old Ern, if its all the same to you."

"…fine," the Japanese girl grumbled, moving to the next Gryffindor she at least knew in passing, a certain Ronald Weasley. "You heard the offer. Interested?"

"You any good at potions?" Ron questioned.

"One of the best last year."

"…Noel's loss then," the Weasley noted.

Phelan, as mentioned, went off to find Ernie and badger the poor Hufflepuff him into (reluctantly) agreeing to work with him, managing to succeed just as Slughorn put some instructions on the board, covering how this potion differed from the Wiggenweld but could be brewed with most of the same ingredients.

"You'll find a recipe you can reference in your potions book," the man instructed. "You have until the end of class to prepare something."

With that he made his way to his desk and sat down, leaving Shinji thoughtful as he took out his annotated copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and placed it between him and Amber, opening it to the page for the Grand Wiggenweld.

"…that isn't your handwriting," the copper-haired girl quietly noted as she glanced over the heavily annotated page.

"It isn't," he admitted. "But it's helped me anyway. Besides, it's my book, so I have the right to use whatever is in it, right?"

"…you really do sound like Nats sometimes," Amber murmured. "These instructions are good, I hope?"

"I'd bet a vial of Felix Felicis on it," Shinji replied.

The two quickly got to work, following the instructions in the Half-Blood Prince's old potions book as they prepared ingredients, brewed, and such, creating – by the end – perhaps the best example of the Grand Wiggenweld Slughorn had seen in years.

* * *

After double Potions came lunch, with most of the students going to the Great Hall – except Shinji, who received a summons to the Headmaster's Office.

' _Well, Acting Headmistress' Office_ ,' he supposed, walking over to the gargoyle guarding the stairs up the office. _'Hope this visit is better than the last…'_

He remembered quite well the circumstances that had brought him to the Headmaster's Office last year, with Filch dying and his…adventure with Ernie and Phelan going south soon after. Then, he'd almost lost a friend. Now…

' _It's different this time. I haven't done anything wrong.'_

Or so he told himself as he approached the gargoyle.

"Elphinstone," he said, reciting the password that had been written on the invitation.

The sentinel all but leapt aside, revealing the seemingly endless stairs, with Shinji climbing as quickly as he could, until he emerged in a much…cleaner, more organized office. Many of the old instruments and gadgets he had seen had been removed, leaving the room quite austere, save for a shelf full of old books, including a well-worn copy of the Bible.

"Ah, Mister Matou, have a seat," the Acting Headmistress, dressed in dour grey, instructed him, gesturing to the one chair she had for visitors.

He did, finding it none too comfortable, though he was too polite to say so.

"Do you know why I called you here?" Professor McGonagall asked, her expression stern.

"...no, ma'am," he replied. He couldn't think of anything he'd done wrong in the day he'd been at Hogwarts, at least. Unless… "This isn't about me turning into a mule, is it?"

The Acting Headmistress just stared at him for a moment.

"May I see your license and registration?" she said finally, with Shinji reaching into his robes and handing the documents over.

Professor McGonagall took them and examined them closely, though what she was looking for, he wasn't sure. Whatever it was, she seemed to find it, as she handed the documents back to the boy…as well as taking out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from a desk drawer.

…a copy of the _Prophet_ with his picture on it, copies of the picture from the French paper, and a headline that read something like _**YOUNGEST ANIMAGUS IN BRITISH HISTORY : INTERNATIONAL MULE OF MYSTERY UNMASKED!**_

"Have you seen this?" the Acting Headmistress inquired.

"Um, no ma'am," the boy replied. "When—"

"It was the talk of the castle at breakfast this morning, with you conspicuously absent," the Professor noted. "Might I ask where you were?"

"I…" Shinji swallowed. "I was having breakfast in the Kitchens."

"Is that your usual habit, Mister Matou?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I see."

A heavy silence hung in the air.

"…am I in trouble?" the boy finally asked, with McGonagall just giving him a _look_ that made him reel. "I…"

"No," the Acting Headmistress admitted. "You are not. There is no Hogwarts rule that says you may not speak to the press, and whatever your indiscretions in France, that was not here."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because you, like myself, are an animagus, and I wanted to see what kind of person you are," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "Becoming an animagus is not an easy thing, much less for one so young – and who has never shown an excess of talent at Transfiguration. Tell me, how did you do it?"

The boy explained how he'd taken a class about the topic at Beauxbatons, one taught by a certain Aloysius Akingbade, an alumnus of Uagadou. Apparently, it was quite common for youths to become animagi at the African school, and the man had been happy to share a few tips.

"…it wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I'd always heard it was this great ordeal, but it didn't seem that troublesome," he admitted, shaking his head. "He taught us the basics. Helped us meditate and get us in the right mindset. Even had someone brew the potion for us, with the ingredients we supplied. He said it was a bit different from the usual formula."

"I see." Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, before exhaling. "It is true that Uagadou does things in its own way. In any case, since you are indeed an animagus – a _registered_ animagus , at that, I suppose I should congratulate you."

"Thank you," Shinji said, dipping his head. "It didn't seem to be as big a deal as the Ministry is making it out to be…"

"In every century, there are only a few of us who bother learning this aspect of the Craft," the Assistant Headmistress noted. "At least, only a few who are recorded. There may be some unregistered animagi, but those are usually not particularly important." She shook her head. "In any case, as you are an animagus, but one in obvious need of additional instruction, there is an old provision in the school code that is relevant to you."

"Oh?"

"In the days of the Founders, particularly promising students were treated as apprentices by one of the Four, given additional, individualized training to help them develop their talents," McGonagall explained. "Unlike those days, however, we cannot exempt you from coursework, given the requirements of the Ministry."

"I see," Shinji noted, though he seemed rather confused. "What do you mean by developing my talents though? I'm already an animagus…or is there more to it than being able to transform into an animal at will?"

"There is," McGonagall agreed. "By unlocking the transformation, you have taken the first step that may lead you to become a powerful animagus, but that is all. To go further, you must become familiar with the limits of the form you have unlocked, until you can act as naturally as you would in your own skin. You must also become familiar with what characteristics of your animal form you retain when you are not transformed."

Shinji blinked.

"Wait, that I retain when I'm _not_ transformed?" he echoed. "How would that work?"

"By becoming an animagus, you have bound another pattern to your soul," Professor McGonagall stated, at the boy as if he was a particularly dull child. "Is it a surprise that this has other effects besides allowing you to become an animal at will?"

"…no, I suppose not," Shinji conceded. "Can you give me some examples of what this would look like?"

"Using myself as an example, as a cat animagus, I gained better night vision and a better sense of balance when I am not transformed," the stern witch explained.

"You didn't gain nine lives, like most cats?" the boy couldn't help but joke, only to fall silent as the Acting Headmistress shot him an irritated glare.

"Talk of additional lives or other frivolous things will not be tolerated, Mister Matou," McGonagall rebuked him sharply. "There are few ways one may do such a thing, but they are dark and evil. Should you begin down that path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

Taking the rather ominous words at face value, Shinji simply nodded.

"What would I stand to gain?" he asked, thinking that might be a safer topic to touch on.

"Endurance, perhaps?" the Professor suggested. "Or perhaps a keen sense of smell. There is no set pattern in who gains what."

"I see," the boy said. "And…will _you_ be the one to teach me, then?"

Truth be told, he didn't relish the thought, as McGonagall had never been his favorite teacher. She'd always been rather strict and to the book, something which didn't really mesh with his personality at all.

"It would be either myself or Professor Lupin," the Headmistress explained. "Though he is not an animagus himself, he does have some experience working with enhanced senses, given his nature as a werewolf."

"Could he teach anything else?"

"I suppose since he is the Transfiguration Professor, he could help you learn more advanced transfiguration abilities, since you have proven yourself capable of using them," McGonagall said after a moment. "Should you wish a different path, however, I believe Professor Kettleburn would agree to let you take Care of Magical Creatures, as that might be helpful should you wish to learn more about the animal you can transform into."

"I see."

"The choice is yours, Mister Matou."

"Could I choose more than one?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"If I could learn more about being an animagus from you, while learning more about transfiguration from Professor Lupin, that would be something I would really like."

"Well, I suppose a request from Britain's youngest ever animagus is one I should at least take into account," the Professor stated, closing her eyes. "You do realize that the more instruction you receive, the less free time you will have?"

"Yes."

"Is there a reason you don't care about free time?"

"Because I have to get stronger – to be better – to reach _senpai's_ side," the boy explained.

"' _Senpai'?"_ McGonagall repeated.

"Oh, um, it's a word in Japanese – it means an upperclassman I respect."

"You speak of Tsuji Miyuki then, the other one to be given special privileges?"

Shinji nodded.

"I will see what can be arranged."

With that, the boy was dismissed, leaving him just enough time to get to History of Magic, where a black-clad Professor Leonard Spencer Moon was just introducing himself to the class.

* * *

"Mister…Matou," the man spoke, as the boy walked through the door. "How wonderful that you could join us."

Shinji found himself sweating as every person in the room looked at him.

"I trust you have an explanation for your tardiness," the Professor said, looking at him expectantly.

"I was meeting with the Acting Headmistress, sir," the Japanese boy replied nervously, with the white-haired man regarding him for another long moment, before nodding.

"Very well, take a seat, Mister Matou," Spencer-Moon allowed, waving the boy towards a front row seat that had curiously remained empty.

Shinji, not being a fool, quickly did as instructed.

"For the benefit of Mister Matou, I suppose I will repeat myself," the man stated, eliciting a few groans from the Hufflepuffs in the room – groans which were instantly silenced by a glare from the Professor. "I am Leonard Spencer-Moon, former Minister of Magic, British representative to the International Confederation, and until recently, the head of the ICW Task Force Directorate."

He paused to glance at the mostly blank faces of the students all around him, his lips pressing together into a thin line as he did.

"As expected, none of you know what those titles mean, do you, save perhaps that of Minister," the man continued. "Yet had I said that I had once been a chaser for the Chudley Cannons, you would all had a very strong reaction, I'm sure. For the record, I was not, and have never been on a professional Quidditch team, and as such, I will not be accepting Quidditch as a reason for why you have not finished an assignment. You do not come to Hogwarts to play Quidditch, you come here to learn."

His raptor gaze took in the expressions his audience as he sniffed.

"By learn, of course, I do not mean to memorize the textbook as one of the Ravenclaws in the class before this believed was all that was necessary to impress me. Memorizing facts is not what you are here to do – _understanding_ the import of such facts and how they are part of a bigger picture _is._ Do _not_ let the first get in the way of the second, or you will find yourself regretting your choices."

He smiled.

"After all, they say that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, and while they did not mean this class… _I do_. I have been informed that your previous instructor did not care if you slept in class, when you arrived, or if you paid attention. Such practices will not be continuing under my term as professor."

Leonard Spencer-Moon paused, noting that a certain unfortunate student had indeed nodded off.

"Mister Smith no doubt believes that I will do nothing to him, much as my ineffectual predecessor, but, he is wrong."

With an almost sinister smile, the man extended one arm toward the slumbering Zacharias Smith, with lightning flying from his fingertips and jolting the boy awake, with the Hufflepuff _howling_ in agony as electricity coursed through him.

" _Ahhhh!"_ Zacharias screamed, thrashed, convulsed for several long seconds, before the Professor took pity on him and ceased his demonstration, leaving the boy's still steaming body shuddering in his seat, with terror in his eyes.

"Sleeping in class will not be permitted, _unless_ you bring me a note from Madam Pomfrey stating that after an examination, you have been found to have a health condition. If you do not…" he glanced over at the nearly petrified form of the unfortunate Hufflepuff. "Then you will suffer far worse than Mister Smith did today. After all, you have the benefit of being warned."

He went on to explain that over the course of the year, they would have the chance to put what they learned in context, given that he would be running an interactive simulation of the Grindelwald Incident – a simulation in which every student had a role.

"Each of you will be acting as an agent, ultimately acting either for the stability of the Wizarding World or for Grindelwald, in one of four spheres of influence: North America, Britain, Western Europe, and Eastern Europe," the man stated. "You will have the chance to determine exactly what your perspective is and what you are capable of doing as an agent – but note that the challenges you face will be proportional to the strengths you claim." He raised an eyebrow as one student raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Suzuki?"

"Challenges, sir?"

"Both written assignments – in the form of reports, suggested plans of action, letter, or the like, as well as scenarios that you will experience through the _Book of Spells_ , which I am told you are familiar with."

Shinji's eyes narrowed at this, as he was indeed, _quite_ familiar with the _Book of Spells_ from Quirrell's Defense class.

"By performing well, you will have the chance to participate in actions that may change the course of history. Capturing Grindelwald. Assassinating a Minister. Laying waste to a city. Stealing the plans of an army or faction for your own. Rooting out a rebel cell, toppling a government. All of these are possible – but only after much hard work," the man stated grimly. "To reach a level where you are tasked with such duties, you must prove yourself capable of handling them. For those who side with Grindelwald, this means increasing his influence and undermining the efforts of existing wizarding governments. For those working for the Wizarding World, you must do what is necessary to maintain stability and root out the forces of rebellion. In order to succeed at either of these tasks, however, you must know the region you are working in, and what has historically happened there, as nothing you do happens in isolation."

He smiled then, an expression that was almost _terrifying_ to behold.

"As you may imagine, the goal of the Grindelwald faction is to have at least two of the spheres of influence (if Britain included, or three if not) fall under their Master's aegis, with the authority of the Ministries and the ICW being overthrown, while the goal of the Wizarding World faction is to prevent this by any means necessary, with bonus points if Grindelwald sympathizers and agents can be identified and eliminated," Spencer-Moon explained. "Not that participating in this simulation is _not_ optional. You will participate and you will do your best, or you will fail, no matter how rich you are, how you believe you may be, or how little interest you have in history."

The man chuckled, though it wasn't a particularly friendly sound.

"Let it not be said, however, that I am not…generous," he continued. "At the end of the year, members of the winning faction will receive rewards, with every member getting an enchanted pocketwatch and a lottery ticket for a first edition Scamander book, and additional rewards being given out depending on individual performance. The top pair from each year, for example, will receive a chance to dine with Newt Scamander, one of the surviving heroes of the Grindelwald War, as well as the Minister. In addition, they will receive an exclusive opportunity to study abroad for a year at any of the other ten ICW certified institutions, free of charge, and will be granted a sizable living stipend for the time they are there. Those in the top five pairs of each year will be invited to the Minister's Ball, with a stipend so that you may dress yourselves appropriately. Other than that, clothing, accessories, books, and other rewards may be earned – but only if you prove yourself worthy."

Spencer-Moon went silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over each of the assembled students to ensure that they understood what was at stake, with each of them nodding, one after another.

"Good. Since you understand what is at stake, let me tell you about the setting," he declared. "The year is 1924, just three years since the Great War – what people all over the world are calling "the War to End All Wars" – formally came to an end. In its wake, Germany, has been held responsible for the death and destruction, with the victors saddling it with heavy handed reparations that could only be paid in gold or in foreign currencies. This assignment of responsibility, coupled with its inability to meet payment deadlines, has resulted in the crippling of the German economy, sowing the seeds of hatred and discontent that would eventually lead to the next World War. Outside of Germany, Eastern Europe itself has been thrown into turmoil, with political revolutions, the creations of new states, Russian interventionism, and civil wars creating a massive refugee crisis that had never before been seen in Europe." He paused. "Yes, Mister Smith?"

"…isn't this all Muggle history? What do Muggles have to do with the History of Magic?" Zacharias Smith asked rebelliously, flinching away as the man raised his arm.

"Much," Spencer-Moon replied. "After all, it is this state of affairs that explains much of the discontent among the young wizards of Eastern Europe – especially the muggleborn – who by and large believe that it is the responsibility of those with magic to help their more unfortunate brethren, and to prevent the more unscrupulous among their number from taking advantage of the suffering of their fellow men." The man took a deep breath, as if stilling himself. "Many of them chafed at the fact that the Ministries of Europe, following the advice of the Confederation, had forbidden their people from participating in the Great War, arguing that it risked violating the International Statute of Secrecy – even as friends or family were struck down by Muggle Weapons, or opportunistic dark wizards who took advantage of this interdict to ply their craft in other countries. Yes, there were wizarding heroes of this age, but they were the ones brave enough to defy their governments in order to protect that they cared about, to break the law to serve the greater good. After the War of course, those who went off were not condemned or sent to prisons for their acts, but thought of as heroes for doing what they could. Some were promoted. Some were given plum assignments. Most were revered for doing what was necessary – what was right, not just what was lawful. Of course, this only encouraged those who believed that the Ministries were out of touch with the will of the people, and that perhaps breaking the law – doing what others saw as wrong – was acceptable, if it was done in the name of the greater good."

Shinji leaned in as the Professor spoke, as he found the man's words compelling.

"It was a world like this that greeted Gellert Grindelwald when he proclaimed his desire to overthrow the Confederation's rule, to tear apart the International Statute of Secrecy – an obsolete, outmoded document that was holding wizards back from what they truly capable of – to do what was necessary for that very greater good so many believed in, like the many who had come before him," Leonard Spencer-Moon concluded. "To the wizards of Eastern Europe, who had been forced to watch their brethren – their muggle families and friends – fall into ruin, lose their homes, and more, when they could have done something to stop it if not for the Ministries of their countries, Grindelwald's call to action rang true, and they pledged themselves to his service. After all, even if they were defying the law, defying the rulers of their nations, were they not justified?"

Ernie frowned at this, even as he found this look at the mentality of those who had followed Grindelwald fascinating, for the notion of opposing what was lawful for what was good was something he hadn't really considered before.

"To the ICW, the first sign of trouble was one year ago, when the Ministry of Germany fell, with many of the Ministries of Eastern Europe falling thereafter in a blitzkrieg whose swiftness and ruthlessness took them by surprise," Spencer-Moon went on to say. "Ministers who had ruled during the War and done nothing to help the people were executed – as the Secretaries and Department Heads who had been the enabler for their policies. Aurors and other forces at the disposal of the "reactionary" Ministries were poisoned, killed in their sleep to prevent them from being used against the new Order. The train networks were cut, anti-apparition jinxes were established, and defenses were raised against magical assault, with an iron curtain separating Western Europe from the East, creating an area impassible to ICW wizards."

Shinji raised his eyebrows. He hadn't thought that practitioners could be so practical and efficient when it came to war, given how foolish and bumbling many seemed to be, but he supposed leadership was important.

"For a time, the ICW debated what to do. Was it possible to negotiate? Could a strike of handpicked Aurors enter the East through Muggle means and capture Grindelwald? Could he be assassinated? Was it best simply to contain the spread of his movement, and leave things at that? But soon enough, the choice was no longer theirs, as infiltrators and rabble-rousers spilled into France and other Western nations. The French Ministry, having seen what happened in the East, was not willing to risk a coup, and so declared martial law, arresting and executing dissidents for the sake of civil stability – yet their actions only inflamed the public, as all of Western Europe was embroiled in war." He smiled thinly. "All of Western Europe save for Britain that is, as the British Ministry did not really care about what happened on the continent. Even America, from which the Army of Light would come, remained utterly uninvolved, as it was an ocean away."

He smiled.

"Your assignment for this week is to choose a partner, a side you will be on and a sphere of influence you would like to operate under, as well as creating a…profile for the characters you will play during this simulation, subject to my approval. Feel free to use whatever resources you can find, and to be as detailed as you like. Dismissed."

* * *

As Shinji staggered from History to Defense, he found himself relaxing a bit, because however harsh Professor Quirrel might be, he wasn't as terrifying as Professor Spencer-Moon.

And well, compared to a year-long simulation, even the prospect of facing Quirrell's Welcome Back Challenge, which casts students in the role of intrepid young mercenaries tasked with exploring the Archive, a great library of lore on different magical beasts and beings compiled by a mighty wizard, which has become theoretically the possession of the State, as it was unclaimed following the last owner's death – was a welcome one.

…at least until the students learned that the Archive is not...uninhabited, as the last owner had apparently been a necromancer of some cunning, with the library being infested with many strange varieties of Inferi, whose bodies had been...twisted, with various tentacle structures coming out of necks, armpits, torsos, or with arms mutated into angular structures.

Worse, Quirrell went on to explain that the necromancer appeared to have experimented with different ways of making inferi more efficiently, resulting in the creation of various spore-releasing pods, incubator inferi in which these spores grow, and swarms of creatures which could inject such spore directly into an unarmored individual, transforming them into an inferius.

"Should a single one of infection forms escape into the world at large, the result would be an undead plague such as Britain has never seen, the beginning of a veritable flood that will sweep away the foundations of the world," Quirrell declared. "For now, the perimeter has been sealed, with Aurors having orders to destroy any inferi on sight, should they emerge. Perhaps it would be wiser to simply destroy the Archive, yet, the knowledge gathered there is exceedingly valuable, as it contains records of different magical species, and all manner of research on things such as dementors, undead, curses, and more – invaluable for those trying to oppose them."

"So…we have to go in and kill all the inferi?" Ernie asked skeptically, not even trying to hide how uncomfortable the notion made him. "None of us…none of us have ever fought inferi before, and I don't think we really know good combat spells."

"Fear not, Mister Macmillan," Quirrell replied smoothly. "There is no need to kill all of them on our own, simply to reach the top floor of the Archive, where there is a weapon – a killswitch, if you will – that will destroy the inferi and render the plague inert."

Ernie took a moment to digest this piece of seeming good news.

"…we'd still have to get to the top though, and inferi…"

Quirrell only chuckled.

"Do not worry, Mister Macmillan. As with one of the other scenarios you participated in last year, you will have access to a special armory, from which you – and a partner – may each choose three items to bolster your offensive capabilities, your defenses, or whatever it is you wish. The armory of course, will include things like Goblin-silver mail, longswords, staves, invisibility cloaks and more – even vials of bottled fiendfyre, so there is no need to worry about not having good enough spells."

"I see. Thanks," Ernie said, trying not to show just how discomfited he was by the notion of something as volatile as bottled fiendfyre.

"Of course," the Professor replied. "It would not do for me to give you an impossible challenge for the very first test of the year, yes? That said, I would prefer it if you all partnered with people you have not worked with before, as I want to see how you do as individuals." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of Matou Shinji with his hand raised. "Yes?"

"Then why not have us go through the trial alone?" Shinji reasoned.

"A good question. The answer is simply that Aurors and other like them tend to work in pairs, and so it would not be appropriate," was the answer. "That, and I would not be able to test your leadership abilities."

"Our leadership abilities Professor?" Natsumi questioned.

"Yes indeed, Miss Suzuki. This challenge is not merely a test of your abilities – it will determine your role in a trial to come, one in which one may earn very generous rewards, such as a full outfit wrought of basilisk hide."

"…and what would we have to do for _that_ one?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just assault Azkaban."


	7. Books, Character Sheets, Keys to Rituals

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

* * *

 **Chapter 7.** _Books, Character Sheets, Keys to Rituals_

Sitting in Miyuki-senpai's greenhouse, with Natsumi beside him, and a motley assortment of books scattered across the desk, Matou Shinji stretched, a groan of something between exhaustion and agony escaping his lips as he reached up to rub his aching eyes.

His brain hurt.

His fingers hurt.

His back hurt…and all from spending the day doing nothing but sitting and reading as he tried to come up with a character that would satisfy Professor Spencer-Moon.

' _Two attempts so far, and both of them rejected…'_ the boy grumbled, thinking that it was quite unjust that he couldn't simply play as an _onmyouji_ in Europe, using his _ofuda_ to baffle and amaze the wand-users, though the man had taken one look at his submission and told him to try again, as he needed citations for what he had written _ofuda_ could do.

"It isn't that I don't want to believe you," the old man had said during office hours. "But I have no experience with the Eastern Arts, and as a scholar and a professor, I cannot simply take your word as truth, as you do not know how to use… _ofuda_ , I believe you called it."

Which was true, not that knowing that made him feel any better, especially not when his _second_ sheet – with his character being an obscurial exiled from Russia, was also rejected.

"As a rule, Mister Matou, I am not allowing one to play as an obscurial," the Professor had admonished him. "For one, the conditions that give rise to them and the destruction they tend to cause are quite horrific. For another, you _are_ aware that nearly ever obscurial known has died by the age of ten?"

"Only nearly," Shinji had replied. "There was the case of Credence Barebone," he'd pointed out, with the former Minister nodding.

"True, though there are a number of other abnormalities with Mister Barebone you are likely not aware of," Spencer-Moon had noted. "All you need to know is that he is thought to be the singular example of an obscurial with that level of power – and that such a level of power would be very hard to justify any of you having. Try one more time, if you would."

And so that boy had, even deciding that he should go to the library and look up some of the more unusual things that witchcraft was capable of – only to be turned away, as the library was full of other students.

' _Scavengers_ ,' he hadn't been able to keep himself from thinking, noting how they seized one book, then another, hungrily adding anything of even possible relevance to the stacks of tomes before them.

In the end, he'd had to ask the acting Headmistress for some recommendations about books related to the "Global Wizarding War" during one of their lessons, with the old woman looking at him oddly and asking why he didn't just use the library as that was why it was there.

"The library is full, and all the books I need are already gone," the boy had told her, with this piece of news making McGonagall pause, as if surprised. Still, she had been kind enough to write down the titles of a few volumes that discussed the time period, and some of the more significant people and places who had been involved in the incident.

"Frankly, Mister Matou, the material in these may be a bit much for a second year," she'd warned him. "It may be better for you to work with one of your peers, or wait for a book you need to be returned."

But the boy hadn't heeded her, and at the first opportunity, had ordered those books from Flourish and Blotts by owl order, with Natsumi helping him carry them out to the greenhouse using (what else?) the telekinetic abilities granted to her by Mopsus.

"You rely on that potion too much," Shinji had half-jokingly said to her, only for the chestnut-haired girl to wave off his concern.

"There's no such thing!" she had replied, going on to say that Mopsus wasn't dangerous, and that even if it was, she could stop using it any time she wanted to.

Which brought them to the present, with Shinji agonizing over how to make a character that was both interesting and relevant. Most – if not all – of the people in the books were wand users, yet…being limited to using a wand didn't really interest him, not when he knew that magecraft – and other mysteries – were capable of far more.

"This…why is the Professor treating me like this?" he groaned aloud, with Natsumi shooting him a sympathetic look.

"At least he isn't treating you like Smith?" the chestnut-haired girl asked pointedly.

Shinji winced as he remembered the scene the Hufflepuffs had witnessed on the first day, with Zacharias Smith being nearly flayed alive with lightning, leaving the boy a nervous, petrified wreck.

"…well, that's true," the boy conceded, shaking his head. "I guess it could be worse."

"Right?"

The Japanese boy only sighed at this.

"You're still fine with working together, right?" he asked instead of answering.

"Of course, Matou-kun," Natsumi replied. "Though you have to make your character, or I'll be left all alone."

Shinji grumbled under his breath as he shook his head. He wasn't going to pick a fight with Natsumi. It wouldn't do any good anyway, and if _senpai_ came in and saw him, well…

"…would you mind if I looked at your character sheet?" he said finally, in an attempt to get his mind off his current frustrations. "I know that yours was approved, so…"

"As long as you don't just copy me," Natsumi teased.

"I-I would never!" Shinji sputtered, turning his face away with a mock huff that made the chestnut-haired girl giggle.

"Here then," the Japanese girl said after a few moments of mirth, as she handed him a rolled up character sheet, with the boy unrolling it to see what she had written.

 _Tallulah Kai  
_ **Origin** : North America  
 **Ethnicity** : Native American/Japanese (Claims to be Hawaiian)  
 **Occupation** : (cover) Poet/Playwright; (actual) Investigator for Imperial Japan  
 **Education** : "Homeschooled" (Navajo magic); some schooling from Qausuittuq (First Nations Magic School)

 **Skills** : Skinwalking, Occlumency, Basic Enchantment (Navajo crafts)

 **Advantage** : Japan will cover operational expenses

 **Drawback** : Suffers discrimination due to First Nations background, did not complete education at Qausuittuq (due to being cast out of the tribe)

 _Following the American annexation of the Kingdom of Hawaii and other expansionist behaviors taken by the USA in the Pacific, especially with regards to China, Japan grew concerned about the possibility of American eyes turning towards the home islands. As such, it dispatched a number of students to study in the US, that they might come to understand American culture and how Americans thought, in case conflict should arise._

 _These students (or spies, to call them what they were), soon discovered that America, despite its name, was not entirely united - that there were a number of indigenous nations within its borders that had only recently been suppressed, each with their own languages and culture. This discovery kicked off a second wave of infiltration, where a number of Japanese agents were tasked with embedding themselves within these various groups to learn more about them, paying particular attention to any mention of things like magic, or of any resentment of the US government that could be...exploited and nurtured. Of course, some things were not told to outsiders, so...measures were taken._

 _Some of the agents married into the tribes, becoming part of the People, and having children with wives from the People. Tallulah Kai is the daughter of one such union, and in many ways, is one of the program's success stories, as she is not only fluent in the Navajo language and its cultural traditions, but is well-versed in its magical traditions._

 _One of the traditions, that is, as Tallulah Kai is a skin-walker, having learned of the forbidden lore of the Navajo people during her time at Qausuttiq, the institute of magical learning established by a number of more forward-thinking tribes in concert with a number of native Hawaiians, who believed that to stand as equals to MACUSA and the government in Washington, the First Nations needed to put aside their divisions and old hatreds and stand united._

 _Divided, their influence was weak, as one group could be played against the other. United, however, pooling together their resources, their manpower, and their understanding of the world, they might be able to oppose the government which had broken faith with them time and time again, which had taken their land, killed their people, and more._

 _Such a center for learning would teach not only the arts considered good - healing, protection, blessing and such, but those considered evil as well, as to defend against the darkness, one had to know its nature. Unfortunately, not all who studied there were suited for the path of balance and resisting the call of the forbidden, and so turned to darker paths. Paths to powers long thought lost, to abilities that some might consider...unnatural._

 _Tallulah Kai, one of the brightest members of the first class to study at Qausuittuq, was unfortunately also the first to fall, becoming a skin-walker, the very antithesis of what the school sought to teach, with the ability to transform into various animals at will, steal the faces of people they see, possess individuals/steal control of their bodies, and weave powerful curses of blight, compulsion, and pain._

 _When she was caught, as she eventually was, because she wasn't quite as clever or as skilled in the art of deception as she believed, she was expelled both from Qausuittuq and from the People as a whole, with the Elders placing a mark upon her that she may never return to any dwelling of the People except in the direst of straits, and even then, not without permission from one of them._

 _As she left, however, her father passed along the details of his contacts, giving her the option of becoming an agent of the Japanese government in her own right. Naturally, Tallulah accepted, with her new mission being to find out more about the Magical Congress of the United States, with particular regard any substances or inventions with strategic implications._

 _Her first mission for the Japanese government sends her to New Orleans, where she has been tasked with investigating Violetta Beauvais, the up and coming wandmaker whose wands are said to have a peculiar affinity for Dark Magic, and who is said to use the same wood and core for all the wands she makes._

Shinji blinked as he finished reading the rather lengthy document, glancing back and forth between Natsumi and the document containing the details about Tallulah Kai, the character she would be playing during the simulation.

"…she's not a Mopsus swilling sword user?" the boy asked, not sure whether to be amused or outright shocked by this discovery. He'd been sure – so very sure, that her character would be less…subtle than this.

' _Though I guess her character_ is _the bright one who fell…'_ he mused, narrowing his eyes as he noted that _Tallulah Kai_ did fit her thematic preferences. _'Maybe I should come up with a theme, instead of just making doing what I feel like at the moment.'_

Amber certainly had – she was the copper-haired lady in red, a swashbuckler as quick and cutting with her words as with the tip of her sword.

For himself though…

"Matou-kun, you shouldn't underestimate a girl like that," the chestnut-haired girl said unhappily as she pouted, puffing out her cheeks. "I'm not a one trick pony!" She paused, looking at him. "Or mule, I guess."

"Ouch," Shinji replied, as he mimed being stabbed in the chest. "You wound me, Nats. Truly, you wound me."

"Good. Maybe it will remind you not to take me lightly," the chestnut-haired girl replied, putting her hands on her hips. "Besides, don't you have a character sheet to make? We're working in pairs, so I'd like to know who my partner will be in North America."

"…fine, fine, I'll get back to work," the boy grumbled, shaking his head and making a few other vaguely conciliatory remarks before he turned once more to his books, searching for some sort of inspiration for what kind of character he would play during the simulation, only to come across the same frustrations as before.

He didn't really want to play as a standard wand-user from Europe, and those were, by and large, the sort of people mentioned in the books.

'… _though, huh…that's right, there were probably a number of African practitioners too. Beauxbatons did have a professor who had studied at Uagadou…'_

He'd even been taught by one such man – a rather unconventional practitioner whose notions of how to become an animagus were radically different than those commonly accepted on the Europe, but which had worked.

Remembering this, Shinji smiled slightly.

He supposed he could be someone from Uagadou, or at least had some relationship to the Dark Continent of Africa. Maybe he could even throw in some French ancestry as well, tying him to one of the spheres of influence.

…being part French might even help if he was going to be in New Orleans with Natsumi's character. So Nats told him anyway, though he wasn't sure – didn't everyone in America just speak English? Maybe there were dialects in different parts, just like Kansai-ben, Tohoku-ben, or the Kagoshima dialect radically diverged from standard Japanese (which was itself based on Tokyo-ben)?

America was big, after all – bigger than the Home Islands anyway.

' _Maybe something like this…?'_ he wondered, as he cobbled together something that he thought the Professor might be inclined to accept

 _Ras Al'Gue_  
 **Origin** : North Africa - Algeria  
 **Ethnicity** : Arabian - Father side; French - Mother side  
 **Occupation** : A forlorn part time worker at his Uncle's Potion Shop - Le Liège et le Chaudron; Adventurer **Education** : Homeschooled; Later various tutors

 **Skills** : Potions & Herbology, Martial Arts (Knives and Savate) and Occlumency with a bit of training in modern muggle weapons and stealth.

 **Advantage** : Always under an Enhanced Mopsus Effect due to being experimented on.

 **Drawback** : Can't use a Wand or its associated magic due to being experimented on.

 _Ras was born into a small nomadic tribe of magic users in the sands of Algeria. Born from the union between the son of the Tribe Chief and a young French noblewoman of House Ingelger, he never quite fit in with the tribe. The arranged marriage caused issues between the tribe's normal way of life and the Ingeler family, who was using the marriage to expanded their small potion business into Algeria, in the hopes that they could gain access to the tribe's secret knowledge in potions and access to rare ingredients by marrying their 3rd child to the tribe chief's son._

 _Ras never fit in with his tribe, always being mocked at his poor riding skills (for some reason he never could get the hang of riding on camelback) as well as for his mixed heritage. Yet Ras threw himself into learning potions to prove himself, quickly absorbing his tribe's considerable knowledge in the subject as well as his mother's. But no matter what he did, he was disliked by his father and by age 9, he was deemed unfit to be future leader of the tribe. After which the relationship with the Tribe and the House Ingelger soured. Instead, his younger half-sister, from his father's second wife, was placed as the heir to the tribe. After this betrayal, a cold fire burned inside him._

 _Things slowly spiraled out of control after that as the Tribe and House Ingelger relationship worsened coming to a head when he was about eleven years old. The Chief decided that the only use Ras and his mother had left for the tribe was as test subjects for potion experimentations. His mother quickly grew very ill, taking the blunt of the experiments. And the two of them would have died after drinking concoction after concoction if not for a stroke of luck in the form of a potion's miscalculation._

 _In an effort to remove the downside of Mopsus, by brewing a version that allowed for magic to flow normally yet still have the potion's effect, they had accidentally brewed a stronger version of the potion that caused Ras to permanently be under its effects. It locked away his magic forever yet granted him exceptionally strong psychic abilities. The power to move objects with his mind, to sense danger before it happened and the ability to see small glimpses of the future._

 _Empowered and enraged - Ras tore out of his bounds and telepathically choked his grandfather. He then tore a warpath to the people that hurt him and his mother. He desperately pushed on in the hopes that he would be reunited with his mother. In the end, he stood surrounded by the smoking remains of his now wiped out tribe, with his mother dying in his arms. She succumbed after having a lethal allergic reaction to one of the many potions she was forced to drink._

 _Ras Al'Gue took the remains of his now-extinct tribe's wealth and traveled throughout Northern Africa. Hopping between places, he sought people that would train him in any art that was still available to him, magical or mundane. But he always kept seeking a cure for his condition, to regain what he had lost. He threw himself into his comfort subject, potions, and began to learn how to defend himself against monsters and wizards, using muggle weapons if he had to. He quickly learned how to use knives to defend himself and became an excellent marksman with them._

 _Spending all his money on tutors and equipment, Ras grew into a hardened man. One able to use his wits and potions as a great equalizer against arrogant wizards that underestimated what a small bladed weapon could do, especially one that could be controlled from a distance with his mopsus power and was coated in many of his own deadly potions. But after the money was mostly used up, he was forced to track down the remains of his mother's family for help._

 _His search led him from Northern Africa to Europe, where he continued to refine his arts and skills, combining the knowledge of his tribe with the various crafts of European civilizations, even managing to create an animagus potion that he could use even in his state._

 _He finally arrived to America where his Uncle owned a Potions shop in the City of New Orleans. Ras managed to convince his uncle to give him a job working at the shop for a small paycheck/room and board. But Ras quickly became bored and bitter in his new life. The harsh reality of their fear for all things muggle, in this new strange land, hit him hard. Ras began to suffocate under the draconic laws of America and dreamed of old lifestyle and the freedom it gave him._

 _In America - like in most nations where the Statute of Secrecy was upheld, the ability to use a wand was everything. Without one - without the ability to use one even if he'd had one, he was nothing. In their eyes, he might as well be a muggle, someone worthy of pity, or a laugh..._

 _Well, he'd show them, he resolved. He'd show them all just what one could do without a wand..._

Finished for the moment, the boy leaned back, only to hear a muffled grunt as his shoulder hit something soft.

' _Huh?'_ he wondered, turning to find his face uncomfortably close to Natsumi's, with what his shoulder hit being her…her… _'Her chest.'_

Shinji's face went utter red at the realization, though why had she been so close, so close that he could feel the warmth of her body, could smell the scent of her hair and skin, could—

The boy's eyes widened as the girl leaned in and kissed him – and not on the cheek this time, but on the lips, a move far bolder than he would have expected of her as she stole his first real kiss.

…true, he'd kissed Amber before. But that had been an accident. When they fell on one another. It-it wasn't as if he'd meant to do it.

This…this was the first time someone had _meant_ to kiss him like that, with the boy almost moaning as he felt invisible fingers tracing the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck, with all of his senses helplessly consumed by the girl beside him.

It seemed to last forever, an eternity, though that couldn't have been true, he knew, only that when it couldn't have been a true eternity, for the moment passed and the kiss ended, leaving him breathless.

Was _that_ what a kiss was supposed to feel like? And…

"…why?" he mumbled, his thoughts all a whir.

"Because you look handsome when you're concentrating," Natsumi murmured, her face just about as red as his felt. "And because even though you make fun of how I like the power of Mopsus, you ended up making…how did you say it, a 'mopsus swilling blade user?'" she teased.

"I…hey, he wasn't—"

But his words were cut off as Natsumi's lips sealed his, and the boy's protests melted away.

This time, when they parted, he'd forgotten what he was even annoyed about.

"Can't let Amber get ahead of me too much," Nats had murmured.

"Natsumi, I…"

Whatever he was about to say, though, was interrupted as the greenhouse door opened, with the elegant figure of Tsuji Miyuki entering, trailed by one Momiji Kaede, with the two discussing something about fusion, though the boy wasn't sure why, as he couldn't see any way that a form of electrical power generation would be relevant for higher mysteries.

"Matou-kun, Natsumi," the older Hufflepuff greeted as her eyes fell on the two second-year Hufflepuffs with Kaede echoing her with a more formal "Matou-senpai. Suzuki-senpai", her eyes cold. "Are you well?"

"Y-yes, s-senpai," Shinji stammered, his body going rigid as a sudden surge of fear shot through him as he wondered if Miyuki-senpai had seen…had seen the k-k-kiss and maybe gotten the wrong idea? "N-natsumi and I were just working on our History project."

He picked up the parchment and waved it vaguely in her direction, as if it was a talisman warding against misfortune.

Miyuki came forward and took the paper from his hands, the sensation of her fingers lightly brushing his in the process making the boy dizzy in the process. Not quite dizzy enough to fall over, though that was as much Natsumi keeping him upright with her telekinetic power than anything else, as the brunette gave him the side-eye.

' _What did I do?'_ he wondered, not knowing why the girl who had just kissed him was reacting like this.

While he was wondering, his Senpai handed the character sheet back to him, the faintest hint of a smile gracing her lips.

"You and Natsumi make a good pair," the raven-haired beauty noted, with Natsumi nodding seriously at that.

"I'm honestly surprised he didn't choose Amber as his partner," the brunette answered. "For this assignment, anyway."

"What we choose may sometimes surprise us," Miyuki replied. "As may the consequences of our choices." She paused. "Kaede and I have some Herbology work to attend to tonight. I am afraid we may be somewhat noisy, so it would be for the best if you went back to the Common Room."

"I can't stay and learn Herbology with you, Senpai?" Shinji asked hopefully.

"Matou, it might be best if you concentrated on one thing at a time," the older Hufflepuff chided. "For one, you have History to finish. For another…I believe there was a letter for you from Professor Quirrell in the Common Room. Kaede, you picked it up, yes?"

"Yes, senpai," the first year stated, handing her an envelope, which she in turn handed to Shinji.

The boy took it, and swallowed, knowing just what that must be – a summons to take his turn in the Challenge.

"I-I'll get right on that," he squeaked, knowing that if he was late, the Defense Professor would no doubt visit terrible things upon him. The man was as merciful as a typhoon after all – which was to say, not at all. "T-thank you, senpai."

* * *

Matou Shinji didn't know exactly what to expect from Quirrell's newest challenge, given that the man had told his students very little about _inferi_. He knew enough to prepare for the worst though, which was why he'd gone back to the Hufflepuff dorms to retrieve his wand holsters, his knives, the wand Sokaris had given him, as well as the practice rapier Amber had given him, and the protective gear for it, the last of which he wore under his robes, since one could never be too prepared for one of Quirrell's challenges.

' _Mopsus or…'_

He decided against it, knowing that Quirrell was no doubt expecting someone to use such a trick – though how would _inferi_ respond to that, he wondered? It wasn't as if the undead were particularly intelligent – except for vampires, which he didn't think were on the table here, because if they were, then he was not nearly loaded up enough with protective gear.

 _'Still, I should be thankful I'm not a first year...'_ he told himself. He remembered all too well the horrors of first year and being tossed into a scenario where he was bound and gagged, and had been forced to try and escape a house full of Death Eaters – a situation which he was sure most of his classmates would not even begin to know how to deal with.

Though…maybe it was easier as a first year, since Quirrell tuned his challenges to be very difficult, but not impossible, calibrating the difficulty to a level that the average student of a year could be expected to perform at if they pushed themselves to the limit – and if everything went perfectly. Granted, this did mean most people would fail, but it did encourage a drive for excellence that he hadn't seen from any other teacher.

' _Or a drive to be creative, at least, since the other way of winning is stumbling upon some strategy for dealing with the challenge that Quirrell hadn't foreseen.'_

Granted, that alone didn't guarantee success, but…it was a fair bit better than trying what everyone else was doing over and over and hoping for a different result.

With this on his mind, the boy made his way out of the dorm and over to the Defense Classroom, mulling over what little he knew about the undead and how to face them – though the only things he could come up with were "not much" and "using holy weapons" – neither of which were exactly helpful in his current situation.

After all, if he _had a_ divine construct or holy sword, he wouldn't exactly need to study witchcraft, now would he?

Thinking this, he shook his head, and walked the rest of the way in silence.

Soon enough, though, the door was before him, with the boy raising his hand to knock, only for it to swing open.

' _Huh.'_

He walked through the door and froze as the world around him _changed._

Instead of a classroom, he found himself in a great room filled with racks upon racks of weapons, armor, and other artifacts, like the armory he'd been allowed to visit before the Surviving the Crash scenario.

There was a small table in front of him, with a letter from "High Reclaimer Quirrell", explaining the basics of the mission to which he had been assigned and authorizing him and his partner to each requisition 3 pieces of equipment from the armory that had been built up over years of service in goblin rebellions, giant wars, and other such conflicts.

 _'Three...each?'_

The boy frowned. The last time he'd been allowed to choose an item, his entire team had been limited to three...and now it was three...each?

 _'I have a very bad feeling about this.'_

One that was only compounded as Phelan Noel materialized before him, with the Earl's son carrying a sword over his shoulder and seeming quite excited as he took in his surroundings – with polished metal, oiled leather, and more gleaming from every surface of the room.

"Ah, Matou, you're already here," the young noble noted, rubbing his hands together in delight. He took a moment to glance over the briefing before— "Three each, he said?"

"Yes," Shinji replied somberly. Surely such...generosity was a trap – or at least a dire warning. It had to be...didn't it?

But Phelan, it seemed, did not share his concerns.

"Excellent, excellent," he murmured, a covetous smile gracing his lips. "Let's split up and see what they have, hm?"

"...if you insist," the Japanese boy allowed, shaking his head. Why had he chosen to work with Phelan again, given his history with the other boy? _'Oh, right, because Quirrell wanted us to work with people we haven't partnered with before, and I know that he can be competent, so long as he doesn't go out of control.'_ Of course, not being Amber, he had no idea how he would keep the young noble from the worst of his excesses, but he thought perhaps if he just mentioned what Selina would do (or what he thought Selina might do), he could probably retain some degree of control.

...however good that would do him, given that Matou Shinji didn't really know how to fight the undead.

 _'Well, let's start with the basics then,'_ he told himself, his eyes catching sight of several racks of protective gear. Yes, protection was always good, especially when dealing with inhuman monsters which could no doubt rip him apart limb from limb, and which perhaps had claws or teeth and were willing to use them to deadly effect. _'What do we have?'_

The answer was quite a lot, really.

Suits of gleaming goblin-silver plate.

Coats and coifs of mail, available in both goblin-silver and cold iron, whatever the latter was.

Wyvernhide cloaks.

Basilisk skin garments.

Fine black cloaks that muffled sound and were enchanted to reflect spells.

Even armor meant for a mount of some—

 _'...wait a minute. Why is that there?'_ the boy wondered. Few people would have any use for something meant for a horse or a mule, so unless Quirrell had added this specifically for him, perhaps to tempt him into using his animagus form... _'It's a trap. It has to be.'_

...and quite frankly, even if it wasn't, there was no way he was letting Phelan ride him.

 _'Or is that the trick? Does he know me well enough to know I wouldn't let Phelan ride, and taking the armor is necessary to pass, or...'_

No. To try and guess Quirrell's intentions was the path to madness, as there were too many possibilities for what it could all mean, and if he just didn't choose anything, Shinji wouldn't put it past the Professor to have included some kind of time limit for he and Phelan to be in the armor, meaning that if he was paralyzed by indecision, he'd have to face the undead with no special equipment at all.

 _'Right. I'd better pick something then.'_

But what? The full body coverage of the goblin-silver plate was very, very tempting, given how such armor was said to be virtually indestructible, meaning that he would be safe from the claws and fangs of the undead beasts lurking in the Archive. And yet...

 _'No...'_ He'd never worn plate before, and had no idea how wearing something so solid would affect his endurance. Truly, it would be the cruelest of ironies if he was rendered immobile due to exhaustion, and he didn't think that the armor would protect against something like poison or just being thrown against a wall with great force. And as he recalled Selina mentioning, simply wearing indestructible armor didn't mean one's flesh was any more resistant to damage.

Mail then?

It would protect against physical blows, like the plate, but...in case one of the _inferi_ used fire or some sort of acid, he would be doomed, and he didn't think it would be very good against curses either, especially as spell-beams could be quite narrow.

Narrow enough to pass through the small holes in the armor, perhaps.

 _'And since I don't plan on changing my clothes in front of Phelan – or being naked once the simulation ends and these things fade, the basilisk hide garments are out.'_

Which, by process of elimination left a wyvern-hide cloak.

The boy looked over the rack of cloaks, seeing an assortment of sizes and colors, and eventually settled on a hooded charcoal-grey number that covered his entire body. Somehow, as majestic as a cloak of crimson scales could be, or one of emerald green, style was of little importance next to comfort and functionality.

He moved from there to the racks of weapons that had been set aside for the students, with the boy gawking at some of the items available – great zweihanders taller than he was, siege bows made of the ribs of some great leviathan, exotic throwing rings – chakrams – with razored edges, whipswords with wickedly sharp tendrils, and even some massive bludgeon that was labeled by the improbable name of Holy Flametouched Iron Heavy Mace of Greater Undead Bane – whatever the hell that was.

' _Well, its probably good against the undead, from the name, but that looks…heavy.'_

He wasn't sure if he could lift the damned thing.

Moving on, there were even Holy Flametouched horseshoes of Undead Bane, the sight of which made the boy narrow his eyes. If the words meant anything, then...

 _'No...no, I'm not going to become a mule for this! I already made up my mind!'_ Or so he told himself, turning his gaze to what in his limited experience seemed like sane weapons to use. Things he knew people could use – like a rapier wrought of gleaming bone, which seemed to whisper when he held it...something like _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh ...wgah'nagl fhtagn_ and other nonsense. Or perhaps it compelled him to whisper those words, he thought, as he found his lips moving to repeat the whispers from the blade.

Not wanting to deal with a weapon which could affect his mind, he hastily put the rapier down and examined the other items around him.

There was a goblin-silver longsword infused with basilisk venom he wasn't going to touch, since if he remembered correctly, basilisk venom was quite deadly, and he wasn't exactly proficient with the sword. If he cut himself...well, there were other ways to die that sounded more pleasant.

 _'Well, I guess this sounds reasonable,'_ he thought, looking at a staff carved of blackened bone and set with runes, with one end seeming to burn with dark fire. _'It will give me more reach than a wand, and probably magical power. I'll leave the swording to Phelan.'_

Onto the accessories then...

The boy was briefly tempted by the prospect of obtaining an enchanted goblin-silver tower shield, to afford him maximum protection, or a gauntlet which could project a shield against spells, as well as what were apparently Reclaimer-proprietary Fiendfyre Potions (a set of vials containing bottled fiendfyre, which apparently were excellent at destroying large groups of enemies, leaping from one to the next and consuming them whole - magic and all).

Only...the boy paused when he realized that fiendfyre did not differentiate friend from foe.

 _'I don't really want to deal with friendly fire...'_ he told himself, choosing to pick up a set of what were labeled as health kits – Reclaimer-proprietary mixes of healing potions, stimulants, and antidotes. _'Might as well find a way to keep myself alive, because whatever I do, I'll take hits. Or Phelan will.'_

The latter seemed more likely to Shinji as he wandered back to the center, were Phelan was already waiting.

The other boy took a quick look over the selection of gear that Shinji had chosen for himself, whistling appreciatively as he saw the dragonhide cloak and the staff of carved dragonbone, etched with runes glowing with dark flames.

"Nice combination," the earl's son told him. "You look like some powerful magus there, with that staff and cloak."

Shinji felt rather warm inside on hearing such words, as he'd wanted someone to say them to him for a very long time, even if the person saying it now was terribly uninformed about that side of the world. It wasn't as if he could expect such from his family, who had never given him the time of day, or from most of his friends, who had idea what a magus even was. Frankly, he didn't know where Phelan had stumbled across the word – probably while trying to learn a few new words to impress Selina.

Either way though, he appreciated it, even if it would mean so much more if it came from senpai – or perhaps from his grandfather.

To distract himself from his dark thoughts, Shinji took a moment to assess just what Phelan was wearing as well, expecting the worst…only to find himself surprised.

...surprised that the other boy hadn't chosen to wear goblin-forged plate and dual-wield longswords mostly, combining the goblin-forged, basilisk venom-imbued blade with the vampiric blade that Amber had apparently obtained for him, but it still counted.

Instead, the earl's son was kitted out with goblin-silver mail, shield gauntlets, and...

"...wait a second, are those the proprietary fiendfyre potions?" Shinji squeaked, feeling the urge to back away slowly.

"Of course," Phelan replied jovially. "We need something in case there are really big groups of them, right? I mean, I trust myself to take down any one of them at a time, and I'm pretty sure you can put a few undead on their backs, but what if there's a bunch of them at once?"

Shinji opened his mouth to object, but found himself closing it, as the earl's son had actually brought up a reasonable point.

Discreetly, he tried to pinch himself. This had to be a dream, right...?

"Hey, what are you doing, Matou?"

Or maybe it wasn't, in which case, something told him that this upcoming challenge was going to be very, very painful – or at least one that would be quite…surreal.

* * *

And so it was, beginning with the process of gaining entry Archive for the first time proved to be so.

Unlike other Quirrell challenges, he and Phelan were not simply teleported into the challenge field when they were done choosing their supplies. No – they had to physically walk out of the Armory, past what seemed like an entire squad of Aurors (who seemed far too lightly armed to be facing undead, in his opinion), and report to the Auror Captain, who could grant them permission to enter.

(What happened to people who didn't bother getting authorization was not written, but Shinji could imagine it well enough, given that the Aurors had established a defensive perimeter bristling with wands, watching for any sign of something – anything – strange trying to enter or exit the Archive).

"Reclaimers," the Auror Captain – a man with an improbably craggy face, a pegleg and far less skin than scars and craters – stated in what was less a greeting than a sneer. "Never thought we'd be resorting to mercenaries in Britain after the mess ye lot made in the New World, but what the Minister wants, the Minister gets. Your High Reclaimer bloke tell you what you're walking into?"

"...an Archive infested with _inferi_?" Shinji hazarded.

"Heh, is that all?" the rather moody man snorted, shaking his head. "Still don't really agree with 'im sending boys to do a man's work, but I'm not going to lead an assault on bloody Second Azkaban."

"...second Azkaban?" Phelan asked, his eyes gleaming with something hungry.

"You idiots probably think this is some great adventure – join the Reclaimers, meet interesting people, kill them," the Auror Captain growled. "Well, time to see if you can do what you've been paid to. You need a reminder, or do you think you know it all?"

"It is only common sense to hear from the person on the scene," the Earl's son stated diplomatically, nodding his head to the man deferentially.

The Auror Captain grunted.

"Common sense, eh? Not something you lot practice much, but I'll take it," the man replied, nodding to himself. "My scouts only made it to the end of the first floor, 'fore they were turned back by an ambush. Some kind of strange _inferi,_ with a wave of scurrying things."

"How many made it out?"

"One. Managed to give his report before..." the man trailed off.

"Before..."

"He became one of _them_. An _inferius."_

"What?" Shinji broke in, startled. "How does that happen?"

"Those scurrying things – infectors, we call them – they infect wizards with a curse that kills them and raises them again as undead."

"Infects?" Shinji echoed. "How?"

"Sharp tendrils," the Auror Captain stated said curtly. "Sharp enough to pierce dragonhide, with some effort. Even goblin-hide plate isn't safe if it's made in sections."

"…how would you even stop them from infecting you then?" the Japanese boy demanded.

"Kill them before they reach you," the man replied grimly. "But that isn't easy, since where there's one, there's a flood."

"So it's not just _inferi_ we have to worry about?" Phelan clarified. "The usual walking corpses?"

"If it were only that, we wouldn't have needed you lot around," the Auror Captain sneered. "We can manage _inferi_ well enough. These things though...the mad genius who once lived here was a master of dark magic. It wasn't enough for him to simply create _inferi_. He had to...innovate. To make them even more...unnatural."

"Unnatural?"

"You have inferi with twisted arms and tentacles which can rip apart metal. You have little blighters with them whose sting can turn you into one of the living dead. And worse things besides. If it were up to me, there would be two more squads here, and we would level this Archive and burn everything in it to ash with Fiendfyre, but the Minister wants the Archive intact, so...better you than me."

"...I see."

"At least you have some kind of protection," the man noted, eyeing them. "Though even just armor won't save you. Only one thing will."

"Oh?"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" the man roared, his rancid breath foul in Shinji's nostrils. "You let up for a second, underestimate what the Dark can do? You're dead, or worse, you're one of them."

"...I'll take that under advisement," Shinji said diplomatically.

"Sound like a damned paper-pusher, you do, not some elite wand for hire," the Auror grumbled, seeming quite unhappy. "And besides...swords. Staves. What self-respecting wizard even uses that barbaric shite?"

"One who is still alive after all the shit I've been through," Phelan replied in a completely serious stare.

"...heh," the man noted, nodding. "I suppose there's that. Well, in you go then. Sooner you do and fail, sooner we can get the Minister to let us level the place."

"And if we don't? Fail, that is?"

"Oh, you will. Pair o' overconfident kids who think they know it all? You will, or my name ain't Mad-Eye Moody."

With that, they were cleared to enter, though doing so, knowing dozens of readied wands were pointed at his back if he showed any sign of unnatural behavior was…chilling.

* * *

As such, it was almost a relief to enter the Archive at last, shutting the heavy door behind them.

Once inside, they found it quiet, almost eerily so, given that it was supposed to be infested, though at least there was only really one way forward, so there was no possibility of getting lost. Or so Phelan opined anyway, as Shinji was naturally assuming the worst – that with only one way forward, it would simple enough to have forces lying in wait for him and Phelan.

Fortunately, when he voiced this concern to Phelan, the earl's son seemed receptive, and so they as they proceeded deeper into the structure, they did so warily, expecting danger around every corner, only to grow jumpier and jumpier as they found none, with the silence deepening with every step they took.

"Weird…" Phelan mumbled, shaking his head. "This isn't natural."

"It's a library, Phelan, its supported to be quiet," Shinji retorted.

"Not _this_ quiet," the other boy whispered. "It's worse than a graveyard in here."

"…did you _have_ to use that particular exam..?"

"Hmhm, oh, hello!"

Shinji whirled as something appeared above them, hurtling a knife at it with unerring accuracy – only for his duplicated blade to pass right through the blue…poltergeist in a shower of sparks.

"I say – that was quite rude!" the phantom sputtered, with Shinji taken aback by the fact that there wass something else in here besides them and possibly undead. Was this an enemy or…? "Do you normally greet people like that?"

"Who are you?" the boy demanded, his staff at the ready, as he reached for his wand with his other hand. Maybe this thing was immune to physical damage, but he was sure if he channeled his dark power, he could simply erase it if he had to. Still, it wasn't hostile…yet, so there was no point fighting if he didn't have to.

"I am the Penitent, the poltergeist bound to this installation," the entity responded indignantly.

"Poltergeist?"

"A spirit of chaos, formed by the presence of powerful magic or emotion," the poltergeist replied, with a disturbing titter. ""And you are another group of reclaimers. I see."

"...another?"

"Yes. You have come to reclaim this archive from the depredations of the undead, yes?" the poltergeist asked, skipping over what exactly what he meant by another. Had the past reclaimers been Aurors, or…had they been Reclaimers, as in fellow students who attempted this challenge? "To retrieve the keystone to the ritual that will destroy the necromancer's research."

"Well, yes," Shinji admitted.

"Then I will be of assistance," the spirit said diffidently. "Do you have a weapon? I can hardly hurt the undead on my own – not when they are wrought of cursed matter that can even consume ghosts. But something of iron, perhaps..."

Raising an eyebrow, Shinji tossed over a couple of knives, which the poltergeist grabbed out of the air, seeming to test the balance and heft as it did.

"Ah, silver I see. Not quite cold iron, but it will do," the spirit noted. "Hmhmhmhmh…excellent. Come. This way."

It led them forward along the only path Shinji could see, with the boy expecting a fight around every corner, and being disappointed – until at last, they found a room that was quite full of undead.

Not the zombies Shinji was familiar with, or expecting to see either, but bloated forms with wriggling tentacles, tottering about to and fro.

"Ah, the infestation has become more advanced than I had previously believed," the Penitent stated.

"Advanced?" Phelan asked skeptically. "They don't really look like much of a threat..." he muttered. "What do you think, Matou?"

"They might not look like much, but knowing Quirrell, that's just what he wants us to think," Shinji replied, shaking his head as he gripped his staff.

"Really?" Phelan asked skeptically as he peered around the corner at the group of bloated inferi who were – ever so slowly, shuffling their way - holding his sword at the ready. "They look like they'd pop if I so much as poked them," he noted, miming the action of stabbing one. "Or cut one open a hair. I know that Auror captain said the tentacles were dangerous, but I reckon I can get in there and cut them right off one of them."

And there was some truth to that, as the "tentacles" that took the place of arms seemed more like...overgrown whiskers than anything capable of harming someone.

"...that might be the case, but there's a lot more than one of them," Shinji noted, a note of caution in his voice. "Besides, we have Penitent here, right?" Shinji asked, glancing at the blue poltergeist, who was once again humming as it tossed and caught the knives the boy had given it, as if it didn't realize the importance of keeping quiet. Then again, it was a poltergeist, and thus effectively unkillable by undead so... "I'm sure you wouldn't mind giving one of those a poke, and seeing what it does, right?"

"Very well," the blue spirit hummed, darting forward, and tossing a knife towards one of the bloated _inferi_ , with the blade slicing readily through its flesh and sinking into it down to the hilt.

For a moment, it seemed as if the undead had not been affected, continuing to waddle forward, as if it hadn't been hit at all. But then, the top heavy undead fell flat on its face and didn't get up, with Shinji blinking as he saw this.

"Huh," the boy stated. "Well, if they're that easy, we might as well—"

 _BOOM!_

Whatever he had been about to say was lost, as the corpse exploded, releasing a wave of sheer force that sent other bloated undead flying towards them, along with what seemed like skittering, balloon-like creatures from which a profusion of razor-sharp tentacles seemed to bloom.

 _'They came from...inside?'_ the boy found himself wondering, even as one of the bloated undead landed right beside him, and the boy jumped backwards – though not nearly far enough back to avoid being tossed through the air like a ragdoll by the explosion that followed.

One moment, he'd been standing his ground, ready to charge in – the next, he'd slammed into a wall dozens of meters away, his staff having fallen from his hand sometime or other as his vision swam and his hearing rang.

' _What…what ha—'_

There was another BOOM, one that didn't quite register to his still-ringing ears, one that sent a Phelan that had gotten to one knee, with his projected shield before him, skidding across the ground, with the shield sputtering out, having presumably taken too much damage.

"No more!" the young noble declared – or so Shinji thought he said, though the boy could have said almost anything else that was two syllables and reasonably punchy, since his hearing still hadn't quite recovered.

Whatever Phelan said, the earl's son followed up by rising to his feet, ripped one of the fiendfyre vials from the bandoleer on which he wore them and tossing it far into the distance, into a veritable mob of the bloated undead made up of all the ones which hadn't been tossed forward by the first explosion.

Shinji could only watch as the vial shattered on the ground, spilling black flames upon the ground that quickly spread to engulf the nearby inferi, which popped one by one, releasing balloon-like things – which also popped in the heat.

By this time, the first – unaffected – wave of infectors had almost reached him, a veritable flood of dozens against a single boy, but Phelan stood resolute, taking his wand into his second hand.

" _Verdimillious tria_!" he intoned, as green lightning shot from his wand into the mob, chaining from one to the other as a dozen of the little ones just popped.

But a dozen out of eight dozen did not matter much, and so the infectors closed in.

Some jumped at his unarmored face.

Some tried to cling to his feet or legs as he tried to slice them or stop them.

Some jumped for his torso, even as Phelan sliced and thrashed and fought as best he could.

Fragile the infectors might be, but when there were hundreds, did it matter how fragile they were?

By this point, Shinji had managed to pull himself to his feet, a knife in one hand, his wand already in the other as he thought about how to support Phelan.

He had to get the infectors off his comrade – that much was sure, but how?

His knives? No…it would probably be bad form to just toss a knife towards the boy, especially if he missed and hit his face – these were real knives, after all.

By turning into a mule and trampling the infectors underfoot? Tempting but…if he missed, his animagus form had _no_ armor.

' _Fine. Spells it is then,'_ the boy thought, tossing off a quick _Flipendo tria_ at Phelan, as a miniature tornado of force slammed into the earl's son, incidentally popping all of the creatures on him as the remainder turned their attention to Shinji.

The Japanese boy, however, just stood his ground as he put away the knife, and readied a second wand.

" _Verdimillious tria!"_ he snarled, as jagged strokes of purple-black lightning ripped through the air, tongues of heat and light surging forth again and again as the swarm came at him and the sound of their fragile forms popping sounded like hail on glass. Infectors poured forth like countless grains of rice, only to be ground up, to be torn apart by the dark power Matou wielded.

And then it was over, with the smell of ozone lingering in the air, burnt flesh scattered about the corridor, and the boy on one knee, breathing hard as he felt dizziness seeking to claim him.

Desperately, he put away his wand and drew a health pack, which he used by crushing the ampoule of mixed fluids into his hand, as a fragment of glass cut his skin, allowing the mixture to seep inside and have its effect as his consciousness stabilized.

"The…hell was that?"

"Hmhm…ah, there you are," the unwelcome voice of the poltergeist said. "I have unlocked the central lift, and now that the infestation is clear on this floor, we can proceed to the next level."

For a moment, the boy contemplated just erasing the poltergeist for stirring up this trouble, but figured that it wasn't worth it.

"Phelan, you ok?" he called.

"Just…ugh…peachy," the Earl's son replied with a groan. "What hit me?"

"…me actually?" Shinji admitted. "Had to get those things off of you somehow."

"…ah, was that it? Thought you'd wanted to off me and get the credit," Phelan joked. "You know, impress my sister with handling this all yourself."

"Honestly, she'd probably be more impressed if I brought you back _alive,_ " Shinji quipped, with the Earl's son letting out a strangled bark of laughter from where he lay.

"…well, can't say you're wrong," the Gryffindor admitted. "So, get our things, then onward?"

"…you don't need a health pack?"

"Nah, I can – oww," Phelan groaned as he tried to get up. "On second thought, yes, I'd like one, please."

"…coming right up."


	8. Unexpected Revelations

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

* * *

 **Chapter 8.** _Unexpected Revelations_

After having to tap into soul magic in order to pass the first level of Quirrell's latest challenge, Matou Shinji was not looking forward to what lay ahead. After all, if he'd learned anything about the way the Professor designed these sorts of scenarios, it was that they were designed to push someone to their limits – and beyond – by adapting to whatever they showed, meaning that he was already having to draw upon his darker powers _now_ , then…the next few levels would likely be incredibly painful to deal with.

' _I mean, I could always hope not, but…Quirrell has never been so merciful.'_

Better to expect the worst, he thought.

Sadly, the boy's hunch was proven accurate, when after stepping off the elevator onto the second level, Shinji noted the presence of a new type of enemy.

Aside from the infector forms which skittered across the hallway, there were two armored humanoids looking about, with strange tentacles and tendrils protruding from where their faces would normally have been. The first of these discolored, twisted _inferi_ seemed to be wearing _plate armor_ , while the other was wearing a wyvern-hide cloak and carrying a chillingly familiar rapier wrought of gleaming bone.

'… _that thing again. The thing that was making me whisper_ Ph'nglui mglw'nafh ...wgah'nagl fhtagn _when I touched the hilt…'_

What grim power it held, and how it would affect someone who was struck by it, the boy didn't really want to know.

"Ah, combat forms," the glowing form of _Penitent_ noted airily, though before the boy could ask what combat forms were supposed to be or how to kill them, the poltergeist floated away, disappearing into a large air vent halfway up the wall.

 _'Well, shit...'_

"Any bright ideas, Matou?" Phelan asked, eying the twisted monstrosities with an oddly intense expression. "You can handle the swarm easily enough I think, but the two others with it...? Think I could take 'em with my sword?"

Unlike Phelan, who seemed almost _eager_ to fight one of the "combat forms" before them, Matou Shinji was not as...sanguine about their prospects of defeating two armed and armored foes. Granted, the _inferi_ probably couldn't _use_ the cursed rapier with any great skill, but something told him that these wouldn't die as easily as the bloated, waddling wretches from the previous floor.

…and even those had nearly killed him.

 _'Being undead, it's not as if pain will disable them, or they have some vital organ to pierce. Well, except their heads, but decapitation is so much easier said than done.'_

Even when facing armored normal foes, that would be the case.

Here, when he was up against hostiles in armor, with one even wearing gleaming "indestructible" goblin silver plate, he somehow didn't think things would be any easier.

' _Sure, the other one isn't in plate, but…its wyvern-hide cloak is about the same quality as_ mine _.'_

The boy sighed, his thoughts drifting to the bespectacled blonde who he considered a sister of sorts. Given her stories of adventure, and how often she'd mentioned her brother's party having to deal with the undead, no doubt she'd have some suggestions for him. Even if it wasn't something brilliant, what she had to offer _had_ to be better than the thought that even if the armor was indestructible, the contents might not be.

"...you still have some fiendfyre vials, right?" the Japanese boy asked offhandedly.

"Yeah. I have three, why?" Phelan questioned, frowning as he glanced at Shinji. "You're not thinking we should just toss one at them, are you?"

"Got a better idea?"

"Well, no," Phelan admitted, looking away as he grabbed a vial. "It…it just seems like a waste when there are only two of them. We only have so many vials – if we use them all up now…"

"Then let's not use them all," Shinji shot back, before shaking his head. "Look, I know it seems like a pretty big waste. But there's only two of us, and they're more heavily armored than we are. If we get tangled up with fighting them, and a swarm of infectors…or those bloated things…drop out of…oh… " He glanced to the side. "Out of that airvent or something, how doomed would you say we are on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"...eleven," the earl's son growled, grudgingly conceding the point with a nod. "Fine, we'll do it your way."

So they did, levitating a vial of fiendfyre potion over the rapier wielder, as they deemed him the bigger threat, since he had a weapon, while the other only had tentacles and limbs and too-tough flesh. When they released the spell, gravity reasserted itself and the vial came crashing down upon the head of the figure, spilling its volatile contents over the hapless rapier wielder, and onto the floor, with some of the some of the liquid splattering onto the armor-clad combat form.

As it touched the air, the potion _ignited_ into terrible red flames, with the intense heat of the infernal fire causing all of the swarmers to simply burst.

The undead might not feel pain, but even they were subject to the laws of the world.

As the fire consumed the flesh under the armor, eating away at muscles, sinew and bone, the figure in the wyvern-hide cloak _lurched,_ staggered, twisted and turned, eventually crashing into a wall as it became a pyre, with the flames growing hotter and hotter as they devoured armor, sword and flesh and bone, leaving only ashes.

Sadly, the figure in goblin-silver plate had not been so affected, and even as the splatters of fluid on its armor began to catch fire, it let out a dangerous rasp, head turning lazily towards the direction from which the vial that had killed its partner in crime had come

Noting the two young boys in the distance, the corpse began to run, arms outstretched as if to embrace both Matou and Phelan, even as the fire began to spread.

And behind the boys, the air vent was beginning to make a strange sort of gurgling noise.

" _ **Wingardium Leviosa**_!" Shinji cried as the monster rushed at them, the spell already on his lips, for had he not been the one to suggest levitating the fiendfyre vial that had destroyed its partner?

Yet...his spell accomplished absolutely nothing, both when he said it, and when Phelan cried out the incantation as well.

' _No. No…focus…'_

It was close now, just a matter of meters.

If they failed again it would reach them, and no matter how good they were, they couldn't stop fiendfyre if their lives depended on it.

…which it did, at least as far as this simulation went, since Shinji didn't trust that Quirrell hadn't seen fit to include the sensation of burning to ashes in the sorts of experiences the book could provide.

"Again!" Shinji roared, thrusting his dragonbone staff outward with desperation fueling his words, with raw, desperate need lacing his voice. This time…this time the spell worked, with the burning, armored corpse being lifted into the air...just in time for a swarm of infection forms to pour out of the vent behind them.

"Oh bugger this!" Phelan groaned, instinctively jerking around at the sound. As he turned, so too did his wand, pulling the burning inferius through the air, and Shinji after it.

" _What the—_ " the Japanese boy hissed as he went flying, the staff falling from his hands as it – and he – hit the ground, like the inferius that crashed amidst the infection forms, the roaring hellfire on it leaping to the new hosts hungrily, as they popped off, one after another, in a cacophonous din that nearly deafened him.

They leapt through the air as they burned, trying to get on him, trying to take their revenge, but he reached out and somehow, out of need, called it to his hand, with jet-black lightning tearing from his staff into the armored figure, until it and all the infection forms nearby simply...crumbling away into ash, leaving Shinji alone, breathing hard, his fingers tingling.

"Hmhmhm, oh, there you are," Penitent noted, as the strange poltergeist drifted down out of the airvent. At the sound, a spellbeam lanced through the poltergeist's form, with a wave of dark lightning following it – which the poltergeist dodged – as the boys had cast before they could stop themselves. The poltergeist seemed unaffected, however, only looking down at them oddly. "Strange. You are both quite twitchy. Did something happen?"

"D...d...did something happen?!" Shinji sputtered incredulously, feeling his fingers begin to sharpen as he glared at the flippant poltergeist, thinking that perhaps he should just give in to his rage and— "You—! You little—!"

"Ah ah," the poltergeist chided. "Language. Even if words can never harm me, it is bad form to be so crude around people, you know. Oh, and do mind those claws – they're not very polite."

"Claws?" Phelan echoed, glancing from the poltergeist to Shinji. "Matou doesn't have claws." Yet Shinji had twisted around, his body trembling as he fought for calm, hiding his hands. "Hey - what's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Shinji said quickly. Almost too quickly.

"...it doesn't sound like nothing," Phelan said cautiously. "Are you sure you're alright? I uh...I didn't get you hurt, did I? I mean, if you were, you couldn't have done that cool lightning trick…right?"

"Heh...yeah, that's right," Shinji stated, shaking his head. "A trick I'll use on the little ghost if it doesn't explain exactly what happened."

"How rude. And to think I unlocked the next door for you!" the poltergeist huffed.

"...the next...door?" Phelan echoed.

"How many are there on this level?"

"Oh, just two more."

"Two...fine," Shinji grumbled, feeling the rage recede, telling himself the lie that there was no emotion, there was peace, no ignorance, only knowledge. "Let's get this over with."

"Do you need a rest?" Phelan asked with concern. "You really don't look so good."

" _I'm fine,_ Phelan. Drop it already," the Japanese boy hissed.

"Whoa...ok, Matou – I don't know what your issue is, but we're friends here, ok?" Phelan questioned, with Shinji just staring at him for a second before nodding and looking away.

"...right, right, sorry," the Japanese boy said, shaking his head. "Having some undead monster try to smash my face in isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

"Well, its not mine either, though at least you have that dark lightning of yours to fall back on," the Earl's son agreed, before tilting his head in curiosity. "Say, how do you do that lightning trick anyway?" he asked. "Think you could teach me?"

"...it's not something I could teach even if I wanted to – and I don't want to," Shinji said bluntly, shaking his head as his jaw tightened, as did his grip on his weapons. "You don't have what it takes."

"You mean, I'm not an obscurial?" Phelan countered just as bluntly, with Shinji flinching at the question.

"I-I don't know what you—"

"Look, I'm not stupid Matou. Given how much talking about your family... _bothers_ you, how Granger made that terribly unsubtle comment about obscurials back when she seemed like she wanted to kill you, as well as the fits you had when you were staying with us..."

Shinji glowered, his expression stormy given how obvious Phelan made this all seem, until...

"Unsubtle? _You of all people_ are calling someone unsubtle?"

The earl's son huffed at that.

"This and that are two different things."

"Really? I'd love to see how."

"I _can_ be subtle if I want to be," Phelan insisted, though Shinji was less than inclined to take him at his word. "I mean, Amber is my twin after all," he added. "I just don't like that kind of thing."

"What kind of thing?"

"The whole business of hiding who I am and what I want, of pretending to be nice, only to pierce an enemy when they least expect it," Phelan explained. "We're a bit like the weapons we wield, I guess. She's the patient one who does only what is needed, slipping past people's defenses and keeping them off balance. I prefer the straightforward approach."

"Wearing people down or overwhelming them with your personality, you mean?"

"Well, it works, doesn't it?"

"...that's fair," Shinji conceded, before shaking his head. "Right. We've been talking too long. We have some undead to er..." Kill somehow wasn't the right word, so...

"Turn into worm food?" Phelan suggested, with Shinji twitching at his companion's choice of words.

"... _something else, please_."

Phelan glanced at Shinji oddly.

"Don't like worms?"

"Not the way my... _sister_ does," the Japanese boy said coldly.

"...your sister likes worms?" Phelan questioned. "You mean Selina, or—"

"The one in Japan," Shinji replied, shaking his head. "She's rotten enough inside that her heart might as well be made of them."

"...not the most pleasant image, admittedly."

"Wasn't meant to be. But well—"

"—fine, fine, I won't call them that if you're hung up about the word. Wouldn't want to open that can of—"

He stopped just short of completing that sentence as Shinji stared at him with cold, dead eyes.

"...ok, ok, I get it. Less talking, more...making the undead...redead."

"Phelan?"

"...yes?"

"Shut up."

To vent his frustration, Shinji found himself eliminating the next few groups of inferi with his dark lightning, tearing them apart one by one as they tried to charge at him, to overwhelm him with speed and power. His dark flames and cutting arcs of shadow cared little enough for armor, the weapons his foes carried, or numbers, everything they touched was erased – though this was far more wearying than he liked to let on.

By the time they cleared out the floor and made their way to the lift, Matou Shinji was moving much more slowly than before, his limbs feeling heavy - or was it that there was less of him to pull those limbs along? It felt like there was less anyway, but he didn't know for sure.

As he pressed on, it reached the point that Phelan actually asked if he was ok as they rode the lift upwards, which was about the point when Shinji began to wonder if he'd pushed things too far, only he'd never admit it in front of the other boy.

He did have his pride, after all.

"I'm fine, really," the boy stated as the lift ground to a halt, the doors opening upon yet another floor full of _inferi._

"If you say so."

"I do."

With that, they stepped out onto the next floor, where there were more combat forms...only this time, instead of swords or other weapons, they had wands. To be precise, there are four of them, with one wearing plate and carrying a dragonbone staff, while the other three wearing wyvren-hide robes and carrying normal wands.

What made Shinji worry most though, was the half-open satchel of potions on the waist of one of them, with the potions inside...

"... _those are Fiendfyre potions_ ," he heard someone say, only realizing a moment later that it had been _he_ who had spoken. _'I'm more tired than I thought…'_ "Any ideas?"

"...we could send the ghost?"

"Excuse me!" the wraith – Penitent – sniffed. "I am no mere _ghost_. I am a poltergeist. To accuse me of being such a limited being is quite—"

"We could send the _poltergeist_?" Phelan corrected, his voice a forced whisper.

"I say. How rude! After I've done for you, identifying the threats you face, opening doors so you can proceed, telling you what lies ahead, you want me to hurl myself at these wand-bearing abominations? Are you _quite mad?_ "

"...would you rather distract them, or would you rather I erase you with my dark lightning?" Shinji asked testily. "The choice is yours."

"Y-you...! Well, if it has come to that, I suppose I can do your bidding. Just this once."

The poltergeist drifted forward towards the inferi, the gleam of its knives quite cold in the light as it approached silently – then _struck_ , drawing the attention of all four enemies as it grabbed something from one of them.

Spellbeams blazed through the air as Phelan and Shinji advanced, with the sword-armed boy slashing one in the back while Shinji used his dark lightning to cripple it from the side, a move that seemed to go well until—

 _Clink_.

It was a quiet sound, really. A mere tinkle amidst the din of battle, but it was that sound that sealed Phelan's fate, as a vial of fiendfyre potion struck the ground right in front of the boy, the volatile liquid splattering onto his armor and _igniting,_ with Phelan looking down with a strangled _Help_ on his lips, even though it was impossible to put out fiendfyre.

Yes, it was impossible.

Every wizard who studied the Dark Arts at all knew that.

Oh, perhaps one could force it to move aside, or change it into something else, if one was an unmatched master of transfiguration (as Albus Dumbledore was said to be), but otherwise, once someone was stricken with Fiendfyre, the wretched flames of destruction would burn until there was nothing left, with no amount of potion or flame-freezing charm, or water capable of protecting someone from its effects.

As such, every wizard knew that trying to save someone from even the smallest tongues of hellfire was useless, that one shouldn't even try, as it would usually lead to them being consumed as well.

Of course, Matou Shinji was no wizard, as he would be the first one to argue, and so when Phelan was splattered with the liquid fiendfyre, the boy wasn't about to leave his comrade to die...even if Phelan had left him to suffer the consequences of being found next to a corpse a year ago, but that was another matter.

Yet what could he do? Already, the fire was spreading up Phelan's leg, even as it melted the chainmail he was wearing, with the boy trying his best not to scream as blistering hot metal and flame seared his flesh to the bone.

"...go. I'll take them with me," Phelan ground out, gasped out, more like, as his limbs began to tremble. "I'll be fine. It's...it's just a bit of pain, right?" The boy staggered as one of the inferi blasted him backwards with a spell, putting every ounce of will he had into staying upright. "I'll—I'm a man, I can take it. I can—"

" _ **NO.**_ "

Phelan had only a second to realize that his friend's voice had gone...off somehow, before a sense of utter wrongness filled the air. He could barely breathe, barely move, barely feel anything else as something like black smoke flashed into existence, wrapping about his body, smoke that...

What.

No...smoke couldn't catch fire, could it? Smoke couldn't...

Wait...what? The smoke was withdrawing, following...following in the wake of a figure which looked almost like Matou Shinji, if Matou Shinji were some sort of demon king, a being wrought not of flesh but shadow and flame, an avatar of vengeance and rage whose eyes bled infernal fire.

 _ **"NOT THIS TIME."**_

Phelan staggered, falling on his arse at the shock of hearing the voice that emerged from the mouth of his...friend?, a voice that was like a hundred dissonant voices speaking together, the unearthly screech underlying what was audible assaulting his mind, making him want to close his ears, close his eyes, close everything in the face of death, a monstrous figure, half-insubstantial and riddled in spikes, with claws sharp as knives taking the place of his fingers, cloaked by unquenchable flames.

The figure _**SCrEamED**_ , and every foe in the hallway – even the poltergeist, said to be unkillable – was unmade, as the hallway seemed to spark, eerie holes torn into the world by the whim of the dark one.

And then everything was quiet, and the monster turned to look at him with its terrible gaze, sharp, sharp teeth gleaming in its maw as...

" _ **CAN YoU ConTInuE**_?" the voice hissed, almost...pleasantly, with Phelan blinking, because was about the last thing he had expected to hear from...from a demon.

The boy's mouth opened, closed, opened, closed, and finally opened again to say "Yes."

 _ **"...GoOD. FOlloW."**_

So Phelan did, following as best as he could as what...he thought was his friend set a very grueling pace for a wounded man, though he dared not complain or fall behind, as the world itself was beginning to fall apart around them, as if the very existence of whatever Matou was corrupted it. As they passed, pockets of unreality began to form, holes in the fabric of existence, which Phelan made sure not to fall into.

What happened next, well...

To make a long story short, Matou's dark powers tore through everything that stood in their way, allowing them to obtain the keystone and activate it...seconds before everything dissolved into nothingness, depositing them back into the classroom, where Shinji's...transformation seemed ready to lunge at Quirrell...before the Japanese boy lurched backward, and with a shuddering screech as he _melted several desks_ , reverted to his human form and collapsed.

Quirrell, who was putting away his wand as he looked upon this, shook his head with a frown.

"...I have a number of things I would like to say about this situation," the Professor said after a few moments. "I suppose the first is that—"

"...we passed, right?" Phelan asked, thinking to address the most important topic first.

Quirrell blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed just what the earl's son considered the first thing that needed discussing.

"...I suppose that _technically_ , you did retrieve the keystone and activate the weapon to destroy the inferi in the tower," the Professor noted with a deep sigh. "Even if the tower, for all intents and purposes, _no longer exists_."

"You...didn't say...it had...tobeintact," came a near whisper from the ground, as a bedraggled Matou Shinji pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.

"Ah, Mister Matou..." Quirrell commented. "I see you destroyed the world. Again," he added with a wry twist of his lips.

"...this...this happened before?" Phelan asked, swallowing at _just how casually Quirrell was taking all of this_.

"Oh yes, indeed, Mister Noel," the Defense Professor confirmed. "Your friend Miss Granger would know a lot about _that_."

"Gr...huh." Well...Phelan supposed that if he'd seen Matou look like that, he would have been freaked out as—

"At least he didn't actually try to kill me this time," the man continued. "It seems his time with Miss Moore has been most productive in helping him…mellow out."

"He... _he tried to kill you_?!" Phelan heard someone ask – wait, no that was him asking. He glanced over at Matou. "Is...is that true?"

"I don't remember anything of the sort," Shinji said stiffly.

"Yes well, amnesia is not unheard of when one transforms into an obscurus, now is it?" Quirrell inquired, with Shinji looking away. "Still, perhaps that was partially my fault. I had no idea his relationship with his family was such a can of...worms."

Shinji growled, but did nothing, not wanting to make an even bigger mess of things.

"In any case, yes, I suppose you two did pass," the man admitted with a thin smile. "Meaning you will be captains of opposing teams for the upcoming challenge. I suggest you think about who you may want to recruit for say...a raid on Azkaban."

"...isn't Azkaban supposedly unassailable?"

"Mister Noel, _nothing_ is unassailable," Quirrell said matter of factly. "Though, Mister Matou, if you use that power of yours during a raid, I will penalize your entire team, do you understand?"

"...yes."

"Good. With that, I will give 10 points to Hufflepuff for doing the impossible and snuffing out Fiendfyre. And I'll only take off 5 from each of you for utterly wrecking the scenario. You do realize that with how you've corrupted it, I will have to recreate it from scratch?"

"...sorry," Shinji muttered.

"Wait, why am I being penalized?! I wasn't the one who—" Phelan exclaimed.

"You're a team, aren't you?" Quirrell asked sardonically. "You shared in Matou's successes, so now you share in his punishment. Dismissed."


	9. Unspoken Truths

**But For a Sword (A Matou Shinji Series AU)**

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: Sequel to But for a Stone. A year since Matou Shinji's first introduction to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts finds itself in turmoil. With the disappearance of its Headmaster during the Winter Holiday, the venerable institution has been under a great deal of scrutiny, with its poor safety record and difficulties with retaining staff not only earning them pointed questions from the Ministry, but putting their status as one of only eleven schools of magic accredited by the International Confederation of Wizards in jeopardy. And on a more personal level, Matou Shinji discovers that regardless of what happens at Hogwarts, his beloved senpai, Tsuji Miyuki, may be leaving the school due to family circumstances. In a year full of intrigue, political shenanigans, excursions – and yes, more of Quirrell's life lessons – what is a boy to do?

* * *

 **Chapter 9.** _Unspoken Truths_

After the completion of the scenario and the discussion with Quirrell, the two parted ways, with Phelan being uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps from how things had gone in the Archive, perhaps from his shock that Shinji had tried to kill the Professor once, and perhaps from his annoyance that even in victory, he had lost five points.

Shinji had expected Phelan to grumble about the loss of House Points, if nothing else, given the competitive nature of the earl's son, which was why the other boy's silence weighed on him heavily. Had he failed to get a read on what the other boy was like in the year they'd known each other? Was Phelan so troubled by the…confirmation of what he'd already suspected that the boy hadn't been able to spare any energy for sniping at his…

' _Actually, I'm not sure how Phelan sees me. Am I his friend? Or does he just put up with me because I'm close to his sister? …though, come to think of it, would that encourage him to put up with me or…not? Huh.'_

Not that Phelan's reaction and what it meant were the only things Shinji had to worry about. There was also his new position as _Team Captain_ for a raid on Azkaban. Now, the boy had never been the best with history or British lore, but he did remember something he'd heard from Natsumi, who had a liking for darker tidbits from the past: that those who first investigated Azkaban after it appeared refused afterwards to talk of what they had found inside, save that the least frightening part was that the place was infested with dementors.

Now, what about that statement disturbed him?

Oh yes, that _the_ _ **least**_ _frightening part was that the place was infested with dementors._

Knowing Professor Quirrell as he did, the thought of the nightmarish scenarios the man could – and would – come up based solely on that one line was utterly terrifying.

Still, he couldn't worry about that now, or at least not solely about that. More pressing was the fact that that Phelan had already known about his…condition. And if Phlean knew…who else among his circle of friends – who he hadn't _already told –_ might have figured it out?

Ernie, possibly?

…maybe the Nigel guy, who seemed both smart and way too close to Miyuki-senpai?

…maybe one of the teachers _besides_ Professor Quirrell, who for all his sadism was still respectful of his students' privacy?

Maybe Sm— _nah._

Shinji snorted at the last, unbidden thought. If someone like Zacharias Smith had figured out his secret, then he might as well drop out of Hogwarts here and now, because it would have taken all of a day for the rest of the school to know.

'… _but yeah, a talk might be a good idea after all. Maybe I'll write some letters and ask if the house-elves will deliver them for me, since if I use the owls, people won't get mail till breakfast, and the sooner this is handled the better.'_

* * *

The boy proceeded to do so, hoping that his friends would be willing to meet him for an early breakfast in the kitchens, and was heartened to see that when the appointed hour came, everyone he'd invited had arrived, albeit with various shades of sleepiness visible on their faces.

Miyuki-senpai's appearance was immaculate as ever, of course, with the beautiful older girl looking utterly serene despite the early hour, her thermos of tea in her hand and her clothes and hair perfectly arranged. The only odd thing was that there was a black fox perched on her shoulder, and he didn't recall her having a familiar when he'd last seen her, but then she _had_ come back from Japan, and with her beauty and skill, it wouldn't have been impossible for her to have bound a _kitsune_ to her service.

' _They're supposed to be tricksters too, so maybe this one's just been invisible this whole time?'_

…or maybe it was just Selina's, since the bespectacled blonde's familiar was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the Slytherin was trailed by a black cat and a creature that seemed almost like a hare the color of fallen ash, albeit with strange patterns covering its fur and a crest of something like feathers extending from its head.

"…that's Lily's familiar, Inaba," he couldn't keep himself from remarking as the hare looked up at him with oddly intelligent red eyes. "But why is he with you?"

"I guess he heard I was going to breakfast and decided to tag along," his soul sister explained with a wry twist of her lips. "Lily and I do share a room, you know, and our familiars get along well enough that they don't mind spending time together, as opposed to just with humans."

"Huh," Shinji noted, shaking his head. "A fox and a…rabbit? Wouldn't have thought it."

Selina smiled then, the corners of her lips curving upwards just a bit at his words.

"Neither would I, but you know, stranger things have happened. Just look at the people in this room and tell me this is what a normal gathering at Hogwarts looks like," she quipped.

"…fair point," the boy conceded. "Though I think the first time we met was due to Quirrell bringing together a 'gathering of minds,' so unless you want to call the Professor abnormal, I'd say this is pretty close to what I'd usually expect."

But the bespectacled blonde only laughed.

"Matou, I respect the Professor quite a bit, but I'd probably also be the first person to say he's not quite normal compared to our other teachers," Selina commented slyly, turning as she heard footsteps bustling over. "Well, aside from Ernest here, that is."

"I'll say! Every Defense Professor Hogwarts has had for years has ended up quitting or having something terrible happen to them," Ernie broke in without preamble. "And call me Ernie, please," he added nervously. "Ernest just sounds stuffy."

"Oh, nonsense, I of course, know the importance of being Ernest."

"The…importance of being Ernest?" the blond Hufflepuff repeated doubtfully. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that Ernest is a bold name, a proud name. A name that, fitting for a brave hero, can mean either 'serious' or 'battle to the death.'"

"I-I see," Ernie noted, his voice a bit strained. "I, uh, you don't find it too stuffy?"

"Not at all," Selina said, with a smile so warm that the poor blond Hufflepuff thought he was about to pass out, with his hands sweaty and blood rushing to his face. "It's a wonderful name."

"I…t-thank you," the boy stammered, having never heard anyone say such nice things about the name Ernest before. "I—"

But whatever he might have been about to say was lost, as a certain copper-haired Gryffindor

"Ernie's name is quite something to live up to, yes," Phelan interjected, with the boy in question looking indignant at the interruption. "But his is not the only interesting name here, is it?" he asked with what he imagined was a roguishly charming smile.

"It isn't, certainly," Selina agreed, glancing from the pureblood Hufflepuff to the earl's son. "After all, there's yours. A fitting one, given the House you joined and how you approach challenges."

"Given the house I…" Phelan echoed, before he trailed off, his eyes widening. "You know what my name means."

"I know the meanings of a great many names," the bespectacled blonde murmured. "Even yours, young wolf, as uncommon as it may be."

"…d-did you perhaps look it up after we met?" the earl's son inquired. "Or—"

Selina chuckled.

"Oh, I knew of it long before that," she answered, leaning towards him as if to share a secret. "After all, the name Faelán is not so uncommon in Faerûn, young wolf."

"It's a name I can but try to live up to," the boy murmured.

"As I believe Miss Suzuki might say, 'do or do not, there is no try,'" Selina quipped, with Phelan inclining his head to acknowledge the point. "But…shall we all get something to eat, before Matou here tells us what he called us here for? Ernest, that means you too."

"Ah – yes, of course."

Matou Shinji watched the three go to the House Elves in the coner of the room to place their orders, followed by the two familiars, feeling somewhat bemused at how easily Selina managed to maneuver both Ernie and Phelan into following her lead, given how he often found the strong-willed boys to be quite a handful.

' _But then, even I can be taken off-guard at times. Especially by pretty girls,'_ he thought to himself, remembering an incident that had happened back in France during the summer, during one of the few outings they'd had to the French Rivera. _'Just like on the day when I learned that Lily had a familiar at all…'_

* * *

Matou Shinji remembered that day well, in fact, given that that balmy summer afternoon had also been his first encounter with the lovely Fleur Delacour, whose…allure he had been quite unprepared for. He'd thought that with being around pretty girls like Amber and Natsumi would have helped, not to mention all the time he spent with _senpai_ , but…

' _Well, it is what it is.'_

That day, the boy had been sitting by the sea, relaxing as he looked at the waves on a secluded beach out of sight of all. Selina and Lily had been off doing something – shopping perhaps, or maybe swimming – which gave him some time alone to think. And as he had been beginning to realize, time was his most valuable commodity, given that once a moment slipped away, it would never return, and well, it wasn't as if he could use his time productively around the two of them with the amount of skin they showed in their swimsuits – and the rather more shown off by many others on the notorious beaches of the Azure coast.

At least, in the moments he was alone by the sea, he'd been able to start sorting through all the things that had happened in the past year, from his (many) missteps to his (few) moments of triumph.

The comfort he'd felt from being so close to senpai, coupled with the guilt that he could not do anything for her, and the fear that she might soon go far away, slipping beyond his reach forever.

The embarrassment he'd suffered around Amber and Natsumi - though in its own way, it hadn't been unwelcome, even if his cheeks had grown warm, and certain parts of his anatomy had acted up without his consent due to their antics.

The terrible things Granger had done to him, and yet how he'd lost his mind when he had seen her killed in front of him.

The gossip about him in the paper, as a mysterious child of the East.

The empty glories he'd gained.

And now and again, flashes of memory that didn't quite belong – that didn't quite fit, didn't _match_ any actions he knew he'd taken. One of the most discordant had been a half-remembered instant of him laughing savagely as he'd ripped a giant spider apart, followed by a chorus of all too human screams as some kind of ...nest? had burned in ebon flames.

Sometimes the memories that came to him had involved golden eyes, or the smell of the desert sand.

Sometimes they had Granger _running for her life_ from him, as if in those visions, he was some sort of demon.

Granted, such things had only really come up when he was working with Selina on Occlumency, but he wanted to know just what they were. Were these…visions half-remembered dreams stirred up by her probing his mind? Or...were they more than that?

Surely...someone like him couldn't have reveled in the screams of the dying, couldn't have laughed with joy as he tore into beasts, drank their blood and devoured their still beating hearts. That would be...he couldn't be someone like that.

That…someone who did something like that would be a monster.

And…he wasn't a monster.

Miyuki-senpai had told him so. _Sokaris_ had told him so.

 _So_ why, why did—...

But the boy's thoughts had trailed off as he'd heard a sound - a splash that seemed a bit louder than the usual lapping of the waves on the sand.

He'd looked up...and instantly, everything else faded away, except for the sight of a golden-haired goddess emerging from the waves like Aphrodite of old, her skin glistening in the sun as drops of water ran down the cloth of spun sunshine that clung tantalizingly to her curves.

Gazing at her…it had been like looking upon the sun itself, so brilliant that it nearly blinded him, with his entire body feeling _hot_ , as if he was melting – as was only apropos for one who had been blessed with being in the presence of a star fallen from the heavens.

A moan of utter pleasure had issued from his lips, and as if she'd heard, the goddess had turned to look at him, her startled blue gaze meeting his grey.

His body...fire…painful and _exquisite_ had burned through him, with his heart pounding in his chest as if he'd run a marathon.

She'd begun moving towards him, and with each step she'd taken, the fire inside him had blazed hotter and hotter, his sense of the world, his sense of _self_ all being washed away as he'd been helpless to do aught but stare at her. In that moment, he would have been willing to give her anything, to lay down his name, his fortune, his very life for her, had she asked it of him…

Only…the goddess' lips had moved, yet he couldn't understand the sounds issuing from her lips, only that the melody of the unintelligible tongue enthralled him as—

 _Drip._

Huh? The goddess…why…had she been gesturing to her nose?

Her…nose?

Huh?

He'd brought his hand to his nose, and found the area beneath it wet, smelling like iron. Bringing his hand away, he'd seen what it was.

Blood.

But…why...? Why would he…?

And then the goddess had touched him, and everything had gone white.

…

…

…

...some time later, Matou Shinji had awakened, finding himself laying on a towel under an umbrella, with a girl quite a few years younger than him babbling something to him in French. His memory had been fuzzy, with him wondering what had...

And then _she_ had appeared.

' _The goddess…'_

No…that wasn't…he'd thought she was a goddess, but…why? Why had he lost control like that?

" _Comment ça va_?" she'd asked, looking at him with concern, with the sheer force of her _presence_ making parts of him… _wake up_ , with the rest of him trembled, just a breath away from ecstasy.

"Je...je ne...je ne parle pas français," the boy had managed to stammer, with the _goddess_ blinking and taking a step back, as the boy felt like he could breathe again.

"'re you o-kay?" she'd asked, in English this time.

"I...who are you?"

"Ah, je suis...I am Fleur Delacour," she'd replied, only that hadn't been very useful, as he'd had no idea who Fleur Delacour was. Obviously, his ignorance must have been evident to one of her enlightened status, so she continued. "Ah, je suis désolé. I am…I study at Beauxbatons. You...how you say… _collapsed_. I carried you."

"C-carried me?" the boy had echoed dumbly, trying (and not succeeding terribly well) to keep himself from feeling a sense of exultation that the goddess had deigned to take him into her arms. Though, as he'd looked over her form, not knowing where was really safe to look, he'd noticed that she didn't seem to be the strongest person, with her body slim as it was.

"Um…you…ma…wand?" he'd managed to say after a bit.

"Oui. _Mobilicorpus_ ," she'd replied with a gentle smile as she'd handed him his...wand.

"Ah, right...you're a witch," he'd realized, though a moment later, he'd berated himself – for hadn't she already said she went to Beauxbatons?

"Oui, c'est vrai," she confirmed with a dip of her head. "You...'Ogwarts ou _Mahoutokoro_?"

"Hogwarts, normally," Shinji had responded, finding himself on more familiar ground. "But I am at Beauxbatons for the summer."

"Ah, l'École d'été...how you say..." she trailed off. "Ah, summer school?"

"Um, you could say that."

"Vous etes...you are lost? You were…alone," Fleur had noted.

"I was...thinking," Shinji found himself saying. "On the beach. About a lot of things. I don't remember what now. I..." He'd blinked. "I must have fallen asleep. I thought I saw a goddess," he whispered.

Fleur sighed.

"My _soeur_...my _sister_ Gabrielle will return you to your fellows. Can you walk?"

She'd gestured for him to try and stand, at least, and not wanting to refuse a request from his godde—wait. Not wanting to seem weak, the boy had done so, and had gingerly managed to get to his feet.

"...I think I'll manage," he'd said with what little dignity he managed to retain. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this. Thank you for helping me."

The part-Veela had said nothing, only gesturing for him to follow her sister, which Shinji did without complaint. He'd caused enough trouble for everyone, after all – there was no reason to make things worse.

Oddly enough – or perhaps not so oddly, given that Lily had attended Beauxbatons for a year prior to this – when the young girl had returned him to the area where his peers had arranged to meet up after their activities, Lily de Lune had seemed to recognize the little girl.

Or at least, so it had seemed, as Lily had struck up a conversation about Fleur and how she is doing - in French, of course, which the boy could not follow.

"...you know each other?" Shinji had asked after Gabrielle had returned to her sister, rather more taken aback than he should have been, all things considered.

"It's a small world," Lily had responded with a very Gallic shrug, the effortless grace of which was all the more striking as he knew she wasn't French to begin with. "Her sister, Fleur, is very well known at Beauxbatons – and their family graciously hosted me for Christmas this year. What 'appened to you, that you were brought back by another?"

"Ah," Shinji had noted eloquently, before giving the gist of what had happened – that he had been thinking, and then perhaps because of the sun, had fallen asleep or collapsed or some such. He'd omitted any mention of a goddess of course, given that he didn't think such would cause Selina to regard him well, given the reaction he'd gotten from Fleur...

"Given what happened, I would feel better if you joined Selina and I as we wandered about," the young woman had said. "We thought to do some shopping at one of the nearby villages, and to speak with each other about our familiars, if you were curious."

"Familiars?" Shinji had repeated. "I...I don't think…I didn't know you had one."

"Ah, true," Lily had murmured. "Show yourself, Inaba."

The creature had proceeded to do so, with Shinji being rather startled as an odd hare with a crest of feathers shimmered into view with a strange cry.

"I found him in the mountains. He was hurt, and I nursed him to health. He's been with me ever since, even if he's shy around strangers."

Shinji couldn't help but be fascinated, as he'd never seen a creature quite like the feathered hare

"What is he?"

"Some variety of magical rabbit, I think," Lily had replied. "Sadly, magical creatures were never my strong point."

"What was then?"

"Defense," the girl had answered. "Grandfather insisted, after all."

"Ah," the boy had uttered, taking a moment to process that. "So why Inaba? Are you familiar with the tale?"

Lily had smiled mischievously at his query.

"Which tale do you mean? That of Onamuchi or that of Amaterasu seeking a new palace?" the blonde had shot back, with Shinji blinking in shock, as he really hadn't expected a _foreigner_ – much less one part of the insular magical world of practitioners of witchcraft – to know the legends of his homeland. "Yes, I know of them. I like tales about rabbits, you see."

"Oh?" Shinji had inquired. "And why is that?"

"Because I like stories about the moon. Self-evident, yes?" Lily had quipped, with Shinji's mouth making an O of realization as he remembered both her true name, and the translation of her alias.

"...heh, I suppose so, Miss Spencer-Moon," the boy had replied. "Sorry I didn't realize that sooner. But perhaps I simply was too fascinated with...moons to be looking for deeper meanings," he'd said slyly.

The girl merely laughed and patted him on the cheek.

"You should be careful, Matou," she murmured, the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips. "The more you say such pretty lies, the more others might begin to believe them. Worse, you might begin to believe them too. Such is the fate of all too many pretty liars who speak such flowered words."

Shinji had swallowed, almost flinching from the sudden too-intimate contact from the admittedly pretty girl.

"I...sorry," he'd demurred, his face flushing red almost as he'd been burned.

"Don't be. You don't really know me, so I can't really blame you for your missteps. Not really. No more than those who see me in school or know only one of my many names," the girl had replied distantly. "People place such meaning in names, and yet what's in a name? Would a rose by any other name not smell as sweet?"

"...and who is speaking of flowers now?" Shinji had shot back, though he knew it was a weak riposte. "That's...that's from a play, right?"

"Yes. One of the great tragedies, in fact," had been Lily's response. "And what is your answer to my question?"

"That people care less about a thing in and of themselves than the meanings they give them?" he'd hazarded, with the girl smiling as he said this.

"Just so," Lily had murmured. "Humans are inveterate liars, you know, lying to others with every other breath, and to themselves with every other thought. And the worst thing is, sometimes their lies even become the truth. The mask becomes the face. The image the reality."

"...even for you?" the boy had inquired, genuinely curious, if taken aback by this unexpected line of conversation.

"Especially for me," had been her answer, as she patted him on the cheek again. "So, Matou, be careful with your pretty words around this pretty liar."

"...pretty liar?"

"Well, I _am_ pretty, wouldn't you say?" she'd asked demurely, looking at him through her eyelashes.

Shinji'd swallowed.

"I, uh..." he'd floundered, struggling for words, as no one had been quite this...direct with him. Or he was very susceptible to this type of thing, maybe. Who knew?

"Well," Lily had whispered after a moment, smirking at how his tongue was truly tied. "I suppose the lack of an answer is an answer all in itself."

She'd let her fingers brush the back of his hand for just a moment, before turning away, as much a mystery to him as before they'd talked.

* * *

Back in the present, everyone had finally gotten something to eat, had found themselves seats, and were now looking expectantly to the boy to see why he'd asked for all of them so early in the morning.

No reason to back out now then, he supposed.

"I suppose you're all wondering why I've called you here this morning," Shinji began.

"Is this about you being an animagus, and being uh…excited about Miss Delacour riding you bareback?" Ernie interrupted, with the Japanese boy fixing him with a baleful stare for bringing up that particular subject. "W-what?" the blond Hufflepuff huffed. "It was all over the paper."

"…no, it's not about that," Shinji replied, taking a deep breath and counting to twenty in an attempt to keep himself from exploding. He was already on edge from this whole situation and not knowing what everyone else knew – it wouldn't do for him to make things _worse._ "It's about…something else."

"You mean what happened yesterday?" Phelan spoke up, with Shinji both wincing inside at the boy's directness, but at the same time, silently thankful that the earl's son hadn't gone into more detail. Apparently, there were hidden depths to Phelan Noel – though he supposed that in hindsight, that was obvious. If Phelan was as much of a…Phelan as he made himself out to be, he'd probably have long been dead.

' _Though whatever issues he causes, he's loads better than Zacharias Smith.'_

"What happened yesterday?" Ernie echoed, seemingly puzzled. "You mean during your challenge with Quirrell? But why—"

"Phelan had apparently already guessed something about me…I didn't think he would," Shinji said in a roundabout manner. "And then I…confirmed it."

"Oh," Ernie nodded sagely. "So he told you he suspected you were an Obscurial, huh? About time, I guess."

Shinji gaped as he just _stared_ at Ernie, his mouth working up and down as he tried to process what the other boy had just said.

"Huh…?" he asked intelligently. "I uh…did you know too?"

"Know?" Ernie repeated. "No, I didn't know. I guessed though."

"…how…?"

"Give me some credit, Matou," the blond Hufflepuff responded. "I may not be _quite_ as good with theory as you are, but I did my summer reading, and Obscurials were certainly covered in the books on Grindelwald. _Some of us_ didn't have the luxury of enjoying France, or a vacation in Japan, and had to either study or…do some so-called training."

Ernie shot a withering look at Phelan, whose expression was one of a complete innocent, though no one who knew the earl's son bought the act for a moment.

"…and you don't care that…that I'm…monstrous?" Shinji asked, his voice almost a whisper, "that if I lose control…"

Flashes of memory came to him then, of carnage and butchery on a scale the boy had never experienced – and of him _reveling_ in the destruction he caused.

"Matou-kun."

It was Senpai who broke him out of his dark thoughts, and as he looked up, he found his breath taken away by the intensity in her amber-eyed gaze.

"Y-yes, Miyuki-senpai?"

"Not once did you hurt me, even when you lost control," the raven-haired beauty murmured, though her voice was pitched that all could hear. "Yourself – yes, but the Matou-kun I know would never hurt a friend."

"I…" the boy looked down. "I…I almost killed Granger though. Last year, I went to Ravenclaw Tower, and when she interrupted my talk with Sokaris, I got so angry that I…I almost…"

He trailed off, shaking his hands.

"But you didn't, did you?" Amber spoke up. "Even when facing someone you hated, someone who hurt you so much, you held back."

"…that…that was because of Sokaris, because she talked me down," the boy admitted. "If she hadn't been there, I…"

His hands would already be stained.

"You would have done terrible things to her?" Ernie asked. "I mean, if you're telling us you're not very likeable when you're angry, well…it's not like we didn't know that already."

"What?"

"I mean, you remember what you did to Smith, right?"

"What I did to…?" What had he done again? "Remind me?"

"…you kneed the wanker, knocked him to the ground and blasted his crotch, leaving him crying on the floor of the Common Room after he insulted me – and Nats, and Sokaris," Ernie mused aloud. "But you didn't…turn into a demon or something."

"…I was tempted," Shinji admitted, a pained expression coming to his face as he remembered the incident. Smith and his…gang…had been blocking the way out, and they'd insulted his friends, insulted the people who had accepted him. "If they'd pushed me…"

"You would have controlled yourself," Natsumi spoke up. "Well, you might have cursed them and left them broken on the ground like Smith, but you wouldn't have just killed them."

"H-how can you be so sure?" the boy asked. "I…I was angry, so angry…I might have…"

"But you wouldn't, because you're a better person than that," Selina interrupted, with the bespectacled blonde's voice calming him slightly. "If you weren't, would you have worked so hard to learn to control that dark gift this summer? Would you have revealed yourself to Phelan to save his life – in a simulation no less?"

"I…"

"You may have a monstrous part of you, but you are no monster, Matou Shinji," the Slytherin concluded, with the others nodding. "I've seen your thoughts, you know. Your memories. Your feelings. And you are no monster. You're not cruel, or hateful – not really. You just…you feel strongly about things and react accordingly."

"…you would know, I guess," Shinji murmured. "I…I just find it hard to believe that sometimes, given..."

Given the flashes of recollection, and how, if his memories were accurate, he had once given in so completely that he had destroyed everything around him, killing and killing, and killing until there was nothing left.

"Phelan, do you think Matou is a monster?" Selina asked, with the earl's son stiffening.

"…a monster wouldn't have saved me," Phelan answered.

"A monster wouldn't have been so worried about me when I found him amidst ruins," Natsumi said quietly.

"A monster wouldn't have held himself back from hurting someone who angered him," Miyuki-senpai added. "From doing terrible things to them, using every ounce of power one had."

"If you can't believe that about yourself, perhaps you should believe us – because we believe in you," Selina summed up. "Fair enough?"

The room was silent for a minute – two minutes, five, before Shinji finally spoke.

"…fair," the boy spoke. "It's a bit ironic. I called you all here because I was worried about what everyone knew – but you all knew all along. And you all have more faith in me than I do in myself."

"That is what friends are for, Matou," Selina mused. "Though if you'd like, we could make a pact of it."

"A pact?"

"A blood pact, in which you swear that you will restrain yourself to the best of your abilities, and that if necessary, one of us will stop you from going too far," the bespectacled Slytherin noted, with Shinji blinking.

"…you would do that…for me?" he asked, touched by the sincerity in her words. "I…I'm grateful, but you don't need to go that far. I…will keep working my self-control. And I won't be a monster. Not to all of you."

"Then your word is enough," Selina agreed. "So, let's move onto something else, shall we?"

"Like what?" Ernie questioned, curious as to what Selina had in mind.

"Well, like this whole business about assembling teams to raid Azkaban," the young adventuress noted. "You know, the isle that was said to be unassailable?"

"The one where the least frightening part about it was that the place was infested with dementors?" Natsumi inquired, with Phelan frowning at this, apparently heard that part. "Do you know anything about the upcoming challenge? I'm wasn't picked as a Team Captain, since Granger died fighting a combat form and we had to turn back."

"I don't know much either," Phelan contributed, "and Matou and I are both team captains. I just know we have to choose teams, but what we'll be facing…I don't know."

"Maybe it will put us in the role of dark wizards trying to free their fellows from Azkaban during…You-Know-Who's reign," Ernie suggested, with the others turning to look at him. "That would be one possibility I can see anyway. What about you, Selina?"

"Maybe this will be an Azkaban that has been taken over by dark wizards and turned into a fortress, with us playing the role of Reclaimers in trying to take it back," the Slytherin suggested. "What do you think, Matou?"

Shinji wrinkled his nose.

"It's probably going to involve those… _inferi_ again," the boy muttered. "If Quirrell took the trouble to make them for the Archive challenge, he'll probably have them here, too."

"If he's going to pull from older scenarios, do you think we'll be approaching by brooms?" Phelan questioned. "Or do you think we'll just appear on the island somewhere?"

"If its an island…we might even be approaching by sea," Natsumi noted with a frown. "But I don't know anything about how to control a boat, do you?"

One by one, the table collectively shook their heads. It _would_ be like Quirrell to throw them into a situation they were entirely unused to, come to think of it

The chestnut-haired girl glanced over at Tsuji Miyuki, who was the oldest of the people in the room, and who she considered the wisest of them all. "What about you, Miss Miyuki-senpai? Do you have any idea of what awaits?"

In response, the raven-haired girl took a sip of tea.

"Do you recall how Azkaban was first discovered?" she asked instead of answering.

"The island just appeared one day in the 15th Century," Ernie supplied, proving that he, _unlike certain parties in the room_ , had not fallen asleep in history during his first year. "When the concealment charms on it failed…after the the dark wizard who had called it home…died."

"Do you remember what happened to the people the Wizards' Council sent to investigate?"

"They…" Ernie began, only to pale. "Oh no."

"What?" Shinji asked.

"Oh no, oh no…he _would_ do that, wouldn't it?" the blond Hufflepuff muttered to himself. "That…it makes sense. Too much sense."

"What makes sense?" Phelan asked, the gears visibly turning in his mind as he replayed the conversation in his head. "Wait…you don't mean…" He glanced at Tsuji Miyuki. "If the raid is set in the 15th Century, do you think he's going to keep us from using anything invented after that?"

"Most likely," the older girl responded serenely as she took a sip of tea. "It would fit with what I have observed of his character."

"So that's…no _Lumos_ huh?" Ernie noted, frowning. "That wasn't invented till later on."

"Neither were _Alohomora_ or _Wingardium Leviosa,_ " Selina chimed in, as the second years looked at each other, shaking their heads. "Or watches, for that matter."

"Wait…really?" Natsumi questioned. "No watches?"

"Those, like spring-powered clocks, only came about in the 16th century," Selina pointed out helpfully. "So, we wouldn't have those."

"Guh," Phelan grunted. "Would we even have brooms if we go that far back?"

"Yes," Ernie supplied, hesitating. "They'd be a lot worse than even what we had in the _Defense of Hos_ though." He paused. "No Cushioning Charms. Very slow. Poor handling in the wind or at great heights. Worse than that though…I don't think the Extension Charm was invented yet, so no convenient bag that can fit anything and weigh like nothing."

"…tell me Mopsus was around back then," Natsumi interjected, looking pained as one hand going to the silver cylinder on her hip.

"It was," Tsuji Miyuki confirmed. "But _Felix Felicis_ was not."

"Huh…" Shinji noted. "Wonder if Mopsus is about to be in high demand, then."

"Huh? Why?" Phelan asked. "I mean, moving things with your mind is nice and all, but…"

"If first years can't use most of the spells they learned, then wouldn't they be almost useless to have on a team unless you gave them Mopsus?" Shinji pointed out. "I mean, they're small, so you can't have them carry heavy things, or fight hand to hand, so…"

"…you might be right," Phelan admitted. "But who would choose a first year for their team when they can pick others? Seventh years, maybe."

"Well, that's the other thing," Selina voiced. "We don't even know how many people we'll get to pick, or who we get to pick from."

"You're not wrong," Amber agreed. "I guess we have to wait till the Professor tells us more before we come to any decisions. I'm happy to join any of your teams though, if you want."

"Likewise," Shinji added. "Who knows, maybe we can all be on a team together?"

"I'll drink to that!" Ernie toasted, raising his glass of pumpkin juice high. "To Victory!"

"To victory!"

* * *

As it turned out, information was not long in coming, given that each team captain received an information packet at breakfast, detailing their roles, responsibilities, and privileges, laying out the setting of the raid, the basic objectives one could expect, and limits on team composition.

It seemed that the captains had been split into three groupings – Rookies, OWLS, and NEWTS – depending on their year in Hogwarts. First year were classified as Rookies, Second through Fifth years as OWLs, and Sixth and Seventh Years as NEWTs, with captains being forbidden from recruiting people from a higher grouping.

That was, a NEWT Captain could recruit any student at Hogwarts to join their team, while an OWL captain was limited to First through Fifth years, and Rookies could only recruit other First years.

As for how many people they could recruit, this was determined by a point system, where Rookies had 5 points to spend, OWLs had 10 points, and NEWTs had 15, with each prospective recruit being worth a certain number of points, depending their year in school and whether they were a team captain.

That was, a first year was worth one point, a second year was worth 2 points, a third year was worth 3 points and so on, with the cost of a recruit being increased by one point if they were a team Captain of OWL rank or lower, and 2 points if they were a captain of NEWT rank.

This rather starkly limited how large a team could be, unless one was a NEWT student who wanted to recruit 15 first years (and no one really wanted to do that, since raw numbers were probably of limited use – plus each student who 'died' in the course of the raid would reduce the total points the team earned from the raid by a flat 10%).

As for the setting, well…it was as Tsuji Miyuki had guessed, with students being placed in the role of the original team of investigators sent to investigate the sudden appearance of Azkaban in the North Sea during the 15th Century, long before the rise of the International Confederation of Wizards, the Statute of Secrecy, or the Ministry of Magic, with spells, items, and potions being restricted to what was available for use at the time.

Amusingly, this meant that use of the Unforgivable Curses was fully permitted, while something as simple as the wand-lighting charm was not.

' _Well, if I have to pick a team, I guess I'll pick people I know can be useful,'_ Shinji thought to himself, deciding that Miyuki-senpai would of course be on his team, with Amber, Natsumi, and Kaede rounding things out. _'Maybe they all picked up some things in Mahoutokoro_ _that could be useful for some of the objectives of the raid.'_

Though as he moved onto the sheet with the many possible objectives his team could tackle, his expression grew tight and pinched as his eyes noted the objective with the highest point reward and his entire body froze.

' _What…? What is Quirrell even…no. No, no, no – I'm not doing_ that _objective even if it would guarantee me the top prize if we beat it somehow. That's – that's not even just insane. That's suicide.'_

The objective in question? **Defeat the "Apostle of Death."**


End file.
